


homemade dynamite

by crownsandbirds



Series: heathen clung to the homily [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Codependency, Homicidal Ideation, Hypersexuality, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Self-Harm, Slut Shaming, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Violence, also i'll have to add more people, and I mean it, idek how to tag this, this should be enough i guess, um so basically everyone's fucked up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-15 11:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11229744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownsandbirds/pseuds/crownsandbirds
Summary: He'd been thrown into the loony bin in a blink of an eye.Homicidal ideation. Intrusive thoughts. Suicidal. Hypersexual. Schizophrenic. Whatever. Pick a name to describe just how fucked up your head is.





	1. the wrong end of a cigarette

**Author's Note:**

> "don't know you super well  
> but I think that you might be the same as me  
> behave abnormally  
> might get your friend to drive, but he can hardly see  
> we'll end up painted on the road  
> red and chrome  
> all the broken glass sparkling [...]"
> 
> (Homemade Dynamite - Lorde)

Iwaizumi couldn't quite remember a time when he hadn't thought about death. 

Maybe when he was a child. But it wasn't like he could really recall what he thought about back then.

The thoughts had started when he was too small to actually understand what they meant. The sheer wrongness of having them pounce so frequently at his mind. 

His parents had cried and yelled when he'd finally confessed to having such things floating around his brain. They'd shoved him into a psychiatrist's office and spent months treating him like a serial killer. He'd received medicines, a nice psychologist. It had gotten slightly easy, in a way. He'd dealt with the thoughts during most of his life, he could continue dealing with them now. He stopped telling his therapist about them. He bought a handful of notebooks and wrote everything down. Made it a point to let them out but never voice them out loud. Maybe it’d work. 

Then, one time, images of his four-year-old sister hanging from the ceiling fan, broken neck, small head tilting the wrong way, flashed in front of his eyes. He'd grabbed a pair of razor blades from the drugstore just around the corner and tried to make himself bleed to death.

Homicidal ideation. Intrusive thoughts. Suicidal. Whatever. Pick a name to describe just how fucked up your head is. 

He'd been thrown into the loony bin in a blink of an eye.

-

The newcomer arrived in the middle of complete chaos. It was almost enough for the others to feel sorry for him; it was like he'd been dropped in the center of a hurricane. But, then again, most days were like that. 

None of the residing patients present at the common room at the time could spare the time to say hello or to show him around - they were all too busy trying to prevent something that could either turn into a murder or a suicide. In all honesty, most days spun around ideas of murder or suicide; but the kind of situation they were having to deal with right now was urgent enough for them to actually care about something other than their own problems and try to prevent a disturbingly possible bloodshed.

Iwaizumi had just woken up from a strange night of sleep. It was only seven in the morning, and he sat at a hidden corner of the common room, clutching his newest journal, as he stared in some kind of sick awe at the grotesque and very real Baroque painting stretching itself out in front of him. 

A man was crying and yelling words of hate and love and betrayal, struggling against the hold a taller man had on his arms. He was strong, the subtle muscles underneath his tan skin were enough proof of this, and seemed to be even stronger in his fury. Iwaizumi couldn’t decide if the patient sounded angry or desperate as tears slid ferociously down his face and he tried to free himself from the man who was somehow managing to hold him back from throwing himself at the other half of the scenario. 

The contrast was nauseating. Iwaizumi felt like he was still dreaming.

Another boy, seemingly of the same age as the other, stood at the other end of the room, the raising daylight catching at his out-worldly silver hair and making him look like a fallen angel. He had his slim arms crossed, his hip jutting out from his grey sweater pants, and his red lips stretched out into the most sardonic smile Iwaizumi had ever seen in his life. He was laughing uncontrollably, and his laughter was beautiful, clear, almost endearing, if it wasn't framed by the coldest brown eyes. Brown eyes are almost never cold, and that contradiction gave the entire face of the silver-haired boy a strong ability of being a sadistic oxymoron.

It gave Hajime actual shivers as he tugged his journal closer to himself and watched the scene develop into its climax. 

Beside the silver-haired person, a brunette man seemed to be barely holding himself together as he wiped blood from his mouth. Hajime figured he’d probably been hit by the crying man, but hell if he knew the reason. 

Still, the brunette boy seemed intensely satisfied, smiling a bit and wiping his bloodied face in his shirt.  He turned to the silver-haired boy and took a soft hold on his arm. “Oh, c’mon, Koushi, do stop laughing so hard. You’re breaking him.” he teased, in a sing-song voice. 

“I'll break  _ you _ , you cheap whore!” the struggling boy hollered, causing the brunette boy to jump in reflex.

“So mean, Dai-!“ he answered after he’d gotten himself more or less back together, his bottom lip sticking out in a dramatic little pout.

Koushi laughed even louder - the sound became more ominous by the second.

“I’ll murder you both!” Dai screamed suddenly, throwing himself at the other two in a way that not even the taller, clearly much stronger guy behind him managed to hold back easily. 

Koushi put his small hands on his well-drawn hips, a sunny smile lighting up his pale face. “I think it far more likely for you to kill yourself, Dai, really. Well, now, would you murder the one true love of your miserable life?”

Brunette boy moved to exit the room, but not before standing in front of Dai and smiling sweetly to him. “Just for the record, Daichi - I topped.”

All hell broke loose as the two other boys rushed out of the common room like kids playing catch. Koushi left faster, his laughter still hanging around the wooden doors that led to the hallway with the bedrooms. The other went a bit slowly - it seemed like he was trying to avoid any more interaction with the silver-haired patient. On his way out, he crossed eyes with Iwaizumi - out of nowhere, his hollow expression fell into a beautiful, surprised face, mouth hanging slightly open as he stared at the newcomer shamelessly, apparently pleased with the new discovery. Iwaizumi felt his cheeks heating up but didn’t dare to look away. They exchanged stares until the other patient had reluctantly closed the door behind him - and then Hajime tried to distract himself from his pounding heart by watching the bloody remains of the conflict. 

Daichi was now kneeling down on the floor, tears falling in earnest across his face. He was handsome, jawline sharp and inviting eyes, but he had sickly purple eyebags and a feeling of exhaustion that flowed from his entire being. It made Hajime tired just by looking at him; it made him want to look away from that expression of long-felt agony. 

The man who had held him back during the entire disaster was crouched in front of him, softly treading his fingers through Daichi’s short hair, whispering in smooth tones. He seemed comforting, sweet; someone who gave great hugs and cooked well and picked good movies for a sleepover, not even minding if you stole all of the popcorn.

“Let's take you to bed, Dai. It’s too early. Maybe you can get some sleep before group therapy at 11…”

Daichi took a deep, shuddering breath. The amount of sadness in that simple inhale of air made Iwaizumi want to cry. “Yeah, I guess. Thanks, Asahi. For holding me back. Mostly. Do you think Oikawa will tell I punched him?”

Asahi stroked his back soothingly. “Hardly. He’d have to explain the reason, and he’s not a good liar - he'd get in trouble for spending the night at Suga’s bedroom, specially since he managed to go after the headcount.”

Daichi shivered at the idea, and covered his face with his hands. “He's going to kill me, Asahi, he’s killing me and he loves it…”

Asahi gave a sad, sad, resignated smile. “I know. C’mon, slowly now.” he held his friend's hands and carefully helped him stand, supporting his weight as much as possible. The two patients slowly walked out of the common room, like a pair of war survivors.

- 

Truth be told, after the whole incident, Iwaizumi half-forgot the way the brunette boy's sparkling eyes had stared at him. There was too much to absorb, and he understood so little of it that he couldn't help but create a lot of stories inside his head and try to make some sense out of at least part of it.  

For one, he couldn't understand why there weren't any nurses or guards around. The night before, when he'd first walked in, he'd seen some in the bedroom hallway, and even a couple in the common room, but it was already nine in the morning and there wasn't a soul in the place other than a few astray patients here and there. If it hadn't been for the sweet boy that'd held Daichi back during the fight, Iwaizumi was certain that at least a small amount of blood would've been shed - not to mention the moment where the light of the rising sun had caught on Koushi's hand and reflected in something that'd looked suspiciously like the corner of a razor blade hidden in the long sleeve of his two-sizes-too-big soft pink sweater. Goosebumps trailed on his arms when he remembered the cold aura of Koushi's eyes and Daichi's purple-green eyebags. Thoughts flashed like merciless photographies.

The loony bin's couple arrived at around 9:30 am. 

Hajime's brain immediately associated a strange image of an ouroboros to the two patients who were now entering the common room. They were holding hands, the only point of physical contact between them - but their bodies seemed to lean to each other as if their very souls needed to be touching all the time. 

Contrary to the others, who hadn't looked twice at Iwaizumi, the couple noticed him immediately; as soon as they got in, they saw the newcomer and smirked similar lazy smirks as they walked towards him. 

"Hey, good morning, handsome." the pink-haired one greets, shoving his partner at the chair beside Iwaizumi and promptly sitting on his lap. "Haven't seen you around."

Iwaizumi felt just a bit uneasy. The two seemed stable enough, though, so he tried to let his guard down a little. "I arrived yesterday." 

The other patient slowly looked around the room. His eyelids were heavy over his eyes, as if he was a minute away from falling asleep. "Suga did a great job of scaring the dogs out of the common room in the morning."

The pink-haired boy scoffed. "Well, his psychopathy has to be useful for  _ something _ other than breaking everyone's hearts and getting personal privileges."

_ Psychopathy? _ "Dogs?" Iwaizumi questioned, frowning. 

"Dogs, nurses, shrinks, guards. Same thing."

"Yeah, I was wondering why there weren't any of those around here." Iwaizumi tapped his fingers on the cover of his black journal. There was so much to write he didn't even know where to start.

"Our favorite psychopath basically kicked them out. 

"He noticed that we all seemed to fight just a tiny bit more when they were watching us. Specially during the morning. Nothing too alarming, though."

"We always fight a lot anyway. And everyone gets grumpy after being woken up. Not a big deal."

Hajime listened to the couple's story attentively. They were peculiar; their speeches swayed back and forth so smoothly it was hard to differentiate between the two - it was as if both their thoughts and language easily merged into one. 

"Being the sweet evil mastermind that he is, though, he started to provoke us a lot more on mornings - 

"-he would deliberately plan out ways to make us all extremely upset and then coax us to let it all out at the common room as soon as we saw each other." 

"For example, we have a patient with Intermittent Explosive Disorder, so you can imagine how that plan went as well as expected." 

"One day, when all of the dogs were starting to get super worried because our ward had practically entered a permanent state of civil war, he proposed for them to leave us alone in the morning and watch the results."

"Nobody really trusts him, specially not the shrinks, but he's so charming and there was nothing else left to try anyway, so they took the risk."  

"Evidently, he made it a point to get Asahi - that's our soft schizophrenic giant and we all love him very much - to spend some time with all of us and explain everything and make us calm enough to go through the next day with minimum conflict."

"The observation went on for a while until the shrinks decided that it would be better to just leave us alone until group therapy at 11."

"One of the doctors know that Suga's not above dirty tricks to get what he wants, and she said we shouldn't be given such freedom, but everyone was too tired from tearing our fights apart-"

"-and some patients were getting much worse because of the whole thing." 

"So now, thanks to our little angel, we have five hours to hang around here by ourselves and hate each other without anyone barging in and shoving sedative in us."

"Speaking of which, did you hear about the thing that happened just, like, two hours ago?"

"Honey, we share a bedroom, if you heard about it, I probably did as well."

Iwaizumi came out of his haze suddenly. "I was about to ask. What was that all about?"

Pink-haired boy let out a long, thoughtful hum. "Well, considering what Asahi told us, it was probably the usual thing."

The boy underneath him sighed. "It happens almost every week."

"Okay, so, see that pretty thing over there?" the other patient said to Iwaizumi, pointing to brunette boy who, indeed, had just arrived and was sitting on the windowsill, reading a book and sipping coffee from a plastic cup. He was even more beautiful like that, framed by the soft sunlight.  Hajime forcibly dragged his eyes away from his figure. "What about them?"

"That's Oikawa Tooru. Long story short, he's always either thinking about sex or having sex. Nobody really knows why. Some trauma or something." 

"Speaking of which, he probably likes you."

Iwaizumi's heart skipped a long, long beat, disrupting his pulse's metronome completely. "How can you know that?"

"He's been shamelessly staring at your arms ever since you arrived. There's a good chance he'll make a move on you tonight."

"Lucky you. Don’t worry, he's mostly harmless to others. And great in bed.” 

"Beautiful, isn't he?"  _ Yes _ , sighed Hajime's mind. "Such a pretty crier, too."

Iwaizumi didn't ask how they'd acquired that knowledge. The idea of Oikawa Tooru crying seemed like a literal heresy. 

"Back to the explanation. That boy with silver hair? That's Suga. Sugawara Koushi."

"Don't call him 'Koushi' unless you want to die."

"Sadistic fucker. And I mean it." 

“Our favorite psychopath. I’d tell you to stay away from him, but he’ll find a way to hurt you anyway. Just brace yourself, I guess.”   


That seemed, to Hajime, easy enough to believe. "And why was that guy crying?"   


"Ah, well, that was probably Daichi. He's depressed as fuck, and head over heels for Suga."

"Suga knows it, of course he does, and he knows how fucked up in the head Daichi can get because of him."  

"Him and Oikawa actually get along nicely enough, so it's easy for Suga to let Oikawa fuck him and then make sure Daichi finds out."   


“You’re lucky you just got admitted, because recently Daichi has been the main target of Suga’s sadism, so you should be mostly safe.”

“This reminds me. Who’s going to check up on Daichi? He’s probably trying to slash his wrists right now.”

“He doesn’t _have_ anything to slash his wrists with. Also Asahi should be there."   


Casual silence fell upon the common room as Iwaizumi tried to make some sense out of everything he’d just heard. It sounded crazy. Insane. Just the place for him. 

"You never told us your name, newbie. I'm Hanamaki Takahiro, but that's far too long, so just call me Makki. This weirdo here" he said, gesturing with his head to the boy under him. "is Matsukawa, but that's far too strange, so just call him Mattsun." 

"Iwaizumi Hajime. Thanks for… I don't know, introducing me to some stuff."

"Don't mention it, dear. You'll get used to things soon enough. 

Silence fell once again. Iwaizumi took that chance to glance at Oikawa - the boy was staring back at him, seemed to have been doing so for a while, the book hanging limply and forgotten from his hand. None of them looked away as they _analyzed_ each other. 

Suddenly, Hanamaki raised his head from where it was resting against Matsukawa’s chest. His eyes were wide-open and scared. 

“Suga does.” 

Oikawa huffed, looking away from Iwaizumi at last - a soft blush dusted his cheeks. "Fucking bingo, you idiot." he murmured and went back to his book.

“What?” asked Iwaizumi and Mattsun at the same time.   


Hanamaki got up and grabbed his partner's shoulders, shaking them. “Suga has something sharp. He has a  _ knife _ .”   


“He wouldn’t-” Hajime stuttered as realization finally dawned upon him.   


“Of course he would, oh,  _ God _ .”

Oikawa slowly turned a page on the volume he was reading. He had nice hands, Iwaizumi thought hazily. "Better run. On Wednesdays, Asahi has therapy at eight, remember? So Dai has been alone for..." he checked his tasteful little Cartier watch, "at least an hour."    
  
  



	2. heartstrings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "c'mon, i know i'm gonna get hurt;  
> keep playing my heartstrings faster and faster;  
> you can be just what i want:  
> my true disaster."
> 
> (true disaster - tove lo)
> 
> tw: implied self-harm/past suicide attempt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a bit shorter than the previous one, but it's so important.  
> keep an eye out for hints. i won't reveal the characters' backstories until the very last chapters, but there's some hints here and there.

“I _want_ him.” 

“You want everyone, Tooru, that’s basically how your mind goes.”

“I _need_ him, Tetsu, don’t you see? He’s perfect.”

Oikawa was skipping around the ward’s library, tracing his finger down the familiar spines of his favorite books. He felt comfortable here. Safe, as much as possible. He’d lost count of how many insomniac nights he’d spent here, among shelves and narrow corridors, trying not to think about anything other than the alternate universes at the palm of his hands. 

_Man, Oikawa’s so smart. He’s at the top of the class ranking again._

_Well, he’s smart, I’ll give him that. But have you seen his ass?_

_Never mind his ass, have you seen his lips?_

_Who needs intelligence with a body like that?_

_He’s such a smart mouth, he should put those nice lips to better use._

A Shakespeare play caught his attention in one of the higher shelves. He stood on his tiptoes and carefully grabbed it, before gently holding it close to his chest, like he was cradling something precious. 

Behind him, Kuroo scoffed while kneeling down to browse through the poetry shelf. 

“He’s dangerous.”

The two of them were the loony bin’s bookworms. While the other patients made efforts to get privileges such as being able to close the door and take their meds by themselves, Oikawa and Kuroo worked so hard just to get the head shrink’s permission to read books they’d normally be forbidden from. Tetsurou had been trying to get his hands on Allen Ginsberg for two weeks. Tooru was happy enough with _The Bell Jar_ for now but had his eyes on a volume of Euripides he’d seen in one of the locked shelves.

Oikawa laughed bitterly. “What are you even saying? You’re dangerous, I’m dangerous, even Asahi is dangerous when upset. That’s why we’re here in the first place.” 

Kuroo frowned, standing up and flipping lovingly through Keats. His bunkmate kept his attention at the books in front of him. “Well, he might be worse than Suga.” 

“Nah, Suga is about as bad as they come.” Oikawa answered as he appreciated the cover of a book by Sartre. He wondered if they’d ever let him read Nietzche. “I’ve been in this place forever, and I've never seen someone as downright evil as him. It's almost fascinating. It's beautiful. He's got Daichi wrapped around his little finger. So exciting.” 

He’d just end up reading the books assigned to him, probably. Either that or end up not getting anything new at all and continue reading Thomas Mann’s _The Magic Mountain_ \- a rare privilege he’d gotten after a specially good session with his therapist. Honestly, he wasn’t here to actually grab a book; it’d been mostly a instinctive reaction to put his mind off of things, actual real things, like the way Suga’s bite marks still ached dully on his hips and thighs and the way his back still burned with too many scratches. 

"I feel bad for Sawamura. His depression has never been worse.”

_I feel bad for Oikawa._

_I heard he’s quitting the team._

_Who wouldn’t? I mean…_

_Let’s be fair, though, it’s no surprise._

"You should feel bad about your own issues first, Tetsu!" Oikawa said cheerfully, winking and sticking his tongue out a bit. "They did move Kenma to another hallway."

"You know I'd never lay a finger on Kenma." 

_We’d never lay a finger on a girl, but you’re different, aren’t you, Oikawa?_  

"Do _you_ know?"

Oikawa smirked insanely as Kuroo’s hand clenched in a fist, his bony knuckles permanently bloodied and bruised. Sex with Suga always made him feeling dirty and destroyed, even if he topped. Every single time, Suga managed to get him into a too-deep headspace of which there was no way to get him out of other than violence. Either that or getting himself into another, even more intense scene, and he wasn't sure he could consciously handle one of those. 

He knew he was being unfair and mean. The other patient treated Kenma like they were made of ice and glass, like they were either about to break or to vanish in thin air. So much love involved, it made him nauseous. He hoped Kuroo would punch him and shove him back to reality. 

"Put that pretty mouth of yours to better use and go suck someone's dick, Oikawa." a soft voice carried across the narrow corridor in the sweetest, meanest order.

Speaking of actual Satan’s offspring.

Oikawa shivered, putting the books back to their places. Suga knew what those specific words did to him. But he considered himself a specialist in _playing along_. Even when he didn’t know how. Even when he didn't want to. Even when he wanted to stop. Even when it hurt. 

His face contorted into a manic smile. "On it, dear." he sang, immediately shoved two of his own fingers inside his mouth and pushed them all the way to his throat, not even flinching at the intrusion.

This was familiar. This he could deal with.

It didn’t matter if his hand was shaking or if his eyes were burning with unshed tears. It'd never mattered before, it wouldn’t now or ever. He pressed down, mewling, licking around his digits - his throat was spasming against the tip of his fingers as he moaned around them. He had his eyes closed, but he could _feel_ both Suga and Kuroo staring at him, hunger in their eyes, and that was all that mattered. Attention. Lust. Want. For him, all for him. That was all that’d mattered for over half a decade. He was pretty and always so easy, everyone wanted him, how could they not, when he'd do absolutely anything, anything at all to have those minutes of undivided attention, those few moments of fake reassurance and warmth.

So what if it hurt. So what if Suga made each of his brain cells feel tainted and shattered. So what if Kuroo fucked him like he was trying to kill him. So what if Makki and Mattsun loved to have him weeping and begging in their hands for hours on end. It was all for him, all of the attention, all of the pleasure. 

It was everything he needed. To see Testu forget Kenma for a split second and watch, licking his lips. To feel Suga's fine, elegant composure crumble down and witness the other's hands itching to grab him and force him to _put some use to those beautiful red lips of his-_  

It was all he was good for, anyway. 

He forced his fingers further down, imagining it was the newcomer doing it to him, imagining him grabbing at Oikawa with his beautiful, strong arms and holding him and his warm breath against his face and -

Suga grabbed his arm in a bruising hold. Tooru genuinely feared he’d riled up the other enough for him to break his wrist. 

“Enough with the show, you slut.” he said between gritted teeth, but Oikawa could see his dilated pupils, was deeply aware of his shallow breathing. Koushi hated to be affected by anything, and he almost always got violent when the other boy effectively teased him. Oikawa loved it, even if it got him sore and bruised and bloody in the morning after. “We’re all familiar enough with your _skills_. Why don’t you go show them to the new guy?”

Tooru easily jerked his wrist away from Suga’s hold - he frequently forgot how much stronger he was compared to the other. He remembered the day Koushi had been admitted, all hard muscle and flushed cheeks, but after so much time locked up, he’d started to look frail, which made his appearance all the more haunting. It was as if he was an evil silver spirit floating around the ward. 

Even though the bloody scratches on Oikawa’s back proved just how _real_ Suga was. 

“Why don’t _you_ go destroy someone else’s day?” he mumbled, discreetly wiping his spit-slick fingers on his sweater pants. 

Suga narrowed his eyes before letting his mouth widen in a sunny bright smile. His eyes were so cold. “I just might.” he fiddled with his long sleeve, looking bored, and swiftly pulled out his shining, _mean_ razor blade. He put it between his lips and traced the book spines with the tip of his finger. He picked one and shoved it to Oikawa before taking hold of the blade again and lifting it to let it catch the sunlight streaming through the windows.

“Tetsu, your individual session starts in five minutes.” Kuroo took the hint and bolted out of the library. Suga was still staring at the light reflecting white-hot out of his razor blade. “Tooru. Power couple and newbie are in the common room. I’ll give you all twenty minutes. No more, no less.” he hid the weapon again and grabbed Oikawa by the collar, kissing him roughly before shoving him against the shelves. 

“Go.” 

Oikawa held the book tightly to his chest and ran.

-

Daichi's body was so tuned to the entire music of Koushi's existence that he felt a strong shiver run down his spine as delicate, nimble bare feet waltzed into the bedroom he shared with Asahi. 

He was alone; Asahi's Wednesday sessions were usually in the early morning, the only time when the voice inside his head became at least a little bit quieter and let him speak to his therapist without gnawing at the edges of his already too-battered conscience. Daichi hated being in his room without his bunkmate, but he would never tell that to him - the giant, soft bear would probably never go to his sessions again, just to make Daichi feel better. 

He was alone; not that it made much of a difference to Suga: the pretty sadist controlled Asahi's actions as easily and effectively as he controlled all of the other patients in his ward, and his complete lack of shame meant he couldn’t care less about who watched him metamorphosing his evilness into a crude reality. It did make a difference to Daichi, though; it meant Suga had just a little bit more of freedom to do whatever he wanted with him. Since it wasn't 11 am yet, he could even shut the door; Daichi had earned that privilege after spending months without attempting suicide - theoretically, it should be a privilege to Daichi. It just ended up being a deadly opportunity to Suga, who immediately closed the two of them inside as soon as he entered.

Daichi was laying on his side, on Asahi's bed, facing the wall. He could feel Suga's presence taking over the entire place. "Why are you here?” he asked with a voice hoarse from crying.

The bed dipped under the other’s weight; cold fingers came to rest on the back of Daichi’s neck, tightening just enough to make the contact impossible to ignore. His body shook violently.

“Shh, relax, Dai. It’s just me.” Suga shushed, almost sweetly, and Daichi almost laughed at the irony. “I could feel your tears all the way across the hallway. I heard you were probably going to slash your wrists. Are you going to slash your wrists open, my love? Write me a bloody love note?” 

The tears started to flow down again, like a boiling-hot violent summer rain, and he wanted to wipe them off, but he dare not move, not with Koushi’s fingers holding him in place with such certainty and control. "Why are you doing this to me? Why me?”

_whywhywhywhy_

Suga’s voice became as sharp as a sword and slashed through the thick atmosphere. Daichi could feel his ears bleeding. ”Answer me, Daichi. Are you?

He grabbed at the sheets, knuckles white due to useless strength. “I would, but i don't have anything.”

A finger tapped a slow rhythm against his flushed skin. He swore he could hear the _Danse Macabre._ “I do.” Suga said that as casually as if he was saying there was no more coffee on the coffee machine at the common room. “You should probably manage to relieve some of your agony before power couple and newbie find you.

Daichi’s hands were cold. He felt like he might actually pass out. "Please, stop.” he mumbled against his pillow, words barely floating before dropping dead on the floor. "You’re killing me. Stop.” 

Suga’s breath was warm against his face. He felt so human like that, pressed to Daichi’s body, caressing his hair. The softest lips touched his neck and he jerked as if he’d been shot, but Koushi’s hand was now on his waist, still holding him in the exact place he wanted him. "I do it because I love you.” 

Daichi could practically feel the capital _I_ as Suga whispered the half-confession, half-condemnation on his neck. “And I don't know how to love you without hurting you down to your soul.”

The warmth was suddenly gone. The only point of contact left was a small, strong hand pulling at his to drop a razor blade in his palm. The thing was silver, sharp, so fucking cold. 

"Don't let the dogs find you bleeding - I won't allow you to spend another week away from me.” Suga ordered sweetly before leaving the room altogether. 

_I won't allow you to spend another week away from me._

Daichi held the razor blade firmly, its corners cutting at his skin. 

He remembered that week perfectly. A lonely week, by himself at the observation room. 

_Who ever said you were allowed to try to kill yourself?_

Suga had been extremely mad at having to endure seven days without his favorite toy around, and despite easily breaking through security to spend the nights with Daichi, he’d still made sure to hammer the point home, after the other boy had been released: suicide attempt meant observation room. Observation room meant no visitors. No visitors meant Suga had to work just a bit harder to go torment Daichi. And Suga didn’t like that at all. 

_I won't allow you to spend another week away from me._

Koushi wanted him around. Demanded for him to be around.

Daichi stared at the razor blade. He smiled despite himself. 

This he could deal with. This was familiar. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, that was cathartic.  
> so many literary references. that's probably why my text composition teacher calls me "arrogant scholar".  
> they were very carefully chosen, though, so i'll indulge myself and explain why i picked them. 
> 
> \- Allen Ginsberg: american poet from the XX century. Was admitted in a mental hospital for being homosexual. His most important work is based off his mother's paranoid schizophrenia and off the experiences of a friend he met at the mental hospital. His friend went through ECT; Allen avoided it by lying to his doctor and promising he'd become straight. 
> 
> \- "The Bell Jar", by Sylvia Plath: the only novel written by the author. Describes a young woman's life and her slow fall into a severe depression and, at last, into a suicide attempt. Semi-autobiographical; Sylvia killed herself on 1963. She was 30 years old. 
> 
> \- "Bakkhai", by Euripides: Greek play about the god of madness and his insane followers. 
> 
> \- John Keats: Romantic poet. Died at 25 years old of tuberculosis. His tombstone said nothing other than "here lies a poet whose name was written in water". 
> 
> \- "Nausea", by Jean-Paul Sartre: picked by the author as his best work. Written in 1938, in a journal-like style, describes the struggles of a depressed young man trying (and failing) to find a place for himself into society. His language varies from cathartic to indifferent to pure mania to deep sadness. 
> 
> \- Friedrich Nietzsche: XIX century German philosopher. Wrote incredibly intricate and polemic works about the existence of God, the human nature, and about ethics and morality. Considered one of the world's most important philosophers. Died completely insane in the year of 1900. Recent diagnosis suggest he contracted manic-depression illness during his last years. 
> 
> \- "The Magic Mountain", by Thomas Mann: published on 1924, considered to be one of the most influential works of 20th century German literature. Describes the trip of a man to a sanatorium, where he intends to visit a tubercular cousin. He ends up staying seven years. 
> 
> about Danse Macabre. well. honestly, i can't explain, just listen to it. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YyknBTm_YyM) 
> 
> see you next chapter! thanks for the kudos and comments, they mean so so so much.


	3. don't you mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "i nearly killed somebody, don't you mind?   
> don't you mind?  
> i gave you something you can never give back  
> don't you mind?  
> oh, I think I did something terrible to your body  
> don't you mind?  
> oh, I was thinking about killing myself.   
> don't you mind?  
> i love you. don't you mind? don't you mind?"
> 
> (me - the 1975)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a mismatched, shattered monster. lots of iwaoi. i don't know what i'm doing anymore.

The damage was considerable. Iwaizumi felt like running away from Daichi’s and Asahi’s bedroom and throwing up in the toilet. 

Makki was firmly holding a towel to Daichi’s left arm - a few drops of blood had fallen to the floor and to the bedsheets. Hajime’s vision spun a little. “The dogs can’t see this.” Makki said, moving closer to the bleeding boy. “Do you have any long-sleeved clothes?”

Daichi shook his head weakly. He looked completely out of reality, eyes drifting in and out, like a broken lightbulb. “The only person here who has something like that is Suga.” he mumbled, before letting his head drop back against Makki’s shoulder. Long-sleeved clothing was a privilege reserved solely to those who had no self-harming history. Since that was far from being Suga's problem, he was the only one in the ward with a personal collection of sweatshirts and jackets. 

Oikawa barged through the door suddenly before kneeling down next to Daichi and carefully pushing his hair off of his sweaty forehead. He looked  _ active _ , body buzzing with restless energy as he took control of the situation. "Makki, go clean this shit up, I'll hold the towel -" he shoved Makki away and grabbed the towel, keeping it in place around Daichi's wounds. The pink-haired boy moved immediately and ran to help his partner to turn the bedsheets around and hide the stains. "Azumane's not coming - Christ, Daichi, your hands are freezing, when was the last time you fucking ate - I convinced him to go play games with Kenma."

Mattsun sighed deeply. "Thank the fucking heavens."

"Yeah, you're welcome or whatever but we still don't have time until group session." Oikawa barked before turning to Daichi again. "How are you feeling? Can you stand?" he whispered sweetly and held the other’s right hand to slowly help him stand on his shaky legs. Oikawa was more gorgeous than usual like that, caring and careful, all soft smiles and sweet questions as he lowered Daichi on the bed. “I’ll find you something to eat in a bit, okay?” 

Iwaizumi felt awful to admire a beauty that wasn't even aware of its existence while someone bled on the mattress, but Tooru looked  _ regal.  _ It distracted Hajime from the silver glint of the razor blade that laid forgotten on the floor, still scarlet-red on the sharp corner. Before Oikawa arrived, he hadn't been able to stop looking at it ever since he'd arrived running, along with Makki and Mattsun, at the bedroom to find Daichi sitting on the floor, a symphony of slashes on his left arm. Oikawa emitted a soft, controlling aura that was a very welcome relief. 

"We  _ still _ gotta hide the cuts." Mattsun reminded as he wiped the blood stains on the floor with a wet paper towel.

"I'm not going into Suga's room-"

"I'm not going either-”

“Well, then, who’s his bunkmate? Ask them to get something for Daichi.” Hajime snapped. Daichi's unfocused, empty brown eyes were getting him out of his mind. He wanted to punch him just to get him to  _ look _ at things. 

Makki scoffed. “Suga's not fucking allowed to  _ have _ bunkmates.”

Iwaizumi bounced on his tiptoes, unconsciously trying to fidget his frustration out of his body. “Then just tell me where his room is, I’ll go grab it myself.”

Both Makki and Mattsun shook their heads. “He'll murder you.”

“He can murder me later.”

“He’s right." said Oikawa, while taping Daichi’s wounds with a doctor’s ability. "Group therapy is in half an hour. If the dogs see this, we’re all screwed. They’ll move Suga to another ward and lock Dai up in the observation room and keep us all under watch.”

“Koushi will literally kill me if I go back to observation.” Daichi mumbled, voice just a little bit firmer now. Everyone in the room shivered.

“Just let me get the goddamn clothes!”

“Trust me, the last thing you want is to be in Sugawara’s bad side. You don’t deserve this." 

Oikawa stomped his foot on the floor. “Fuck this! If worse comes to worse, I’ll tell him I did it. The worst he can do is fuck my soul out of my body. I’m used to it. Just go!” 

-

Suga carves out words in the inside of his wardrobe. 

His bedroom is pristine clean but there are words carved out in the inside of his wardrobe.

It looks like something out of a horror movie. 

Iwaizumi almost missed it; it wasn't visible, not really, not if one only glanced inside, which most people usually did. But Suga was small and Daichi was strong, and Hajime was trying to find something that would actually fit and to spend as much time as possible away from that bedroom that smelled of blood and death- and then he saw it. Not it,  _ them _ . 

There were too many. He could make out music lyrics, poems. A considerable part was covered by the  _ Le Sacre du Printemps _ ' partiture (Iwaizumi recognized it because his mother was a beautiful pianist and she lived among partitures and songs and loved Stravinsky). Enough poems by Byron and Baudelaire to make him extremely uneasy. Too many names - the names of all the other patients in the ward, Daichi’s repeated an obsessive number of times, names Hajime couldn’t recognize because they were completely unreadable, crossed by deep slashes. Numbers everywhere. Some were probably ages, other were dates, the number 5 carved out so many times it made Hajime dizzy.

Taped to the inside of the doors were crude drawings, done either with pencil or crayon, that looked like they were made by a very sad and angry child, drawings of broken houses and dead, bleeding pets and other desolating things that oozed desperation and that Iwaizumi was sure he’d never wipe out from his mind.

A quote read:

_ Do I kill myself or do i kill them all? _

He grabbed the biggest sweatshirt he could find and  _ ran _ .

-

Daichi was now laying on the bed, wrapped up in a baby blue sweatshirt, wounds properly taped while he munched a chocolate cookie slowly. Iwaizumi felt electricity itching at his fingertips.

"Great. Good. All fine and dandy." Oikawa sighed, leaning against the wall. The purple bags under his eyes were so deep they looked like they could reach his cheekbones - without anything to keep him active, he seemed  _ less _ him, lost in thoughts, somewhere far off from everyone else. Iwaizumi wanted to give some of his own unending insomniac, obsessive energy just to see him glow again. "We have some time left. Makki and Mattsun, would you please go get Asahi? If I went he'd probably figure out what happened just by looking at me." 

Power couple left holding hands. Again Hajime was reminded of an ouroboros.

Tooru knelt down next to Daichi's face, but avoided touching him at all. "Will you be fine? Will you manage to go to group session?"

Daichi hummed absently. "Ah. Sure. Save my seat by the window."

Daichi always sat on the seat by the window. Suga always sat on the windowsill and spent the entirety of group session whispering _things_ on his ear.

Some things won't ever change.

"Will do." the other answered softly before standing up and beckoning silently for Iwaizumi to follow him out of the room. Iwaizumi followed, hazy and weak on the knees but finding himself unable  _ not _ to obey to that peculiar, sharp but gentle boy who was reminding him more and more of a king by the minute. 

Oikawa closed the door behind them and looked straight at Hajime, who, once again, found himself unable to glance away. He hadn't even been so responsive to a person's will. It was weird and made him want to run away and write it all down and try to make some sense out of it.

“Iwa-chan, right?”

Iwaizumi frowned at the childish nickname. “Y-yeah? I guess.”

“ _ You guess _ ?” Oikawa chuckled sweetly, before giving him a soft, all-knowing smile. “Come here.”

Iwaizumi blinked and felt an astray tear dribbling down his face before throwing himself at Tooru’s open arms and allowing all his tears and sobs to flow out. 

“Don’t worry, I’m here. You’re okay. You’ll be fine. Nothing happened.” Oikawa whispered soothingly against Iwaizumi’s spiky hair.

“I’m - I’m - he - so much blood, oh, God, so much - why is everything so awful here-“ Hajime stuttered, weeping freely now. 

“I know, Iwa-chan, I know. There’s no blood now, Daichi’s alright, you’re alright - ”

They stayed like that, Iwaizumi weeping in earnest, clutching tight at the shirt of an almost stranger, and said stranger caressing his back soothingly.

-

Group therapy was weird. 

Everyone positioned themselves on a circle, some sitting on the floor but most on a chair. Suga was the only exception, propped up on the windowsill, kicking the air idly, a dreamy, strange look on his face. Daichi fiddled with the borrowed sweatshirt. Makki and Mattsun had dragged their chairs as closely as possible and were just staying there, in silence, thighs touching and fingers entwined. Asahi sat on the floor, legs crossed, and mumbled to himself, and a tall person with the worst bedhead Iwaizumi had ever seen was sitting next to him, an open book between his legs. 

The doctor arrived on time, white coat floating around her body, a cup of coffee and a clipboard on her hands. Hajime recognized her as the one who had supervised his admittance process - she was smart and mostly gentle, but had a fierce, experienced aura that had him guessing that she could be sharp when necessary.

"Thank God it's Shimizu today." Oikawa mumbled to himself.

She positioned herself in the middle of the circle and looked at all of the patients, an analytical look in her intelligent blue eyes. She turned to Suga at last, and didn't bother to smile. "Good morning, Suga. How have you been?"

Suga gave her a sun-bright grin. "As always. How about you?" he sounded so sweet, so attentive, Iwaizumi could barely believe he was the one who had disturbed Daichi enough to get him to relapse. 

The doctor, though, seemed unfazed. "Hm. Good enough, thank you. Kuroo, could you please put the book down? Thanks." Shimizu sat down at last, placing the clipboard and the cup of coffee underneath her chair. Hajime felt relieved - he wasn't very fond of the idea of someone writing down everything that he happened to say. "We have someone new here. I get that most of you should have talked to him by now, but I'd like to start today by giving him the chance to introduce himself properly." she smiled gently at him but didn't give him a choice to refuse. "Whenever you're ready." 

Iwaizumi immediately turned to the boy beside him, unsure how to proceed in this situation. Shimizu stared at the both of them, narrowing her eyes at the interaction. "Should I tell the truth?" Iwaizumi whispered to Oikawa, who seemed to ponder over his question.

"It's up to you, really." he whispered back. "Not many of us do."

Iwaizumi shrugged, seemingly indifferent - his heart, though, beat fast and out of rhythm, lost between Oikawa's physical closeness and the idea of opening itself up to a bunch of mismatched strangers that he already knew far too much about. 

Oh, well.

He got up and tried not to fidget too much. "I'm Iwaizumi Hajime. I'm - well, at least I was - a freshman at college. I have OCD and I'm here because I tried to kill myself." he stopped suddenly. Was that all he had to say about himself? Was there anything  _ else _ to say? Did anything else even matter now?

He thought about home and buying new books and stationery the previous year, thought about the excitement of going to class everyday to learn so many new things, with so many new people. It was like a very distant and vague dream. Just now, when he'd mentioned being a college freshman, all the other patients had stared at him with such a deep envy he now had a lump on his throat. Oikawa had glanced away, was now fixing his usually so bright eyes on the tree just outside the window. 

How many of those people had happily applied to a dream college only to find themselves locked up in a loony bin before they'd even had the chance to receive the reply letter? How many of those young, young boys had gone through high school graduation merely as a formality, fully aware that they'd be admitted to a mental institution and not even bothering to think about picking majors and looking for scholarships and moving out of home? Hell, Hajime wasn't sure if Suga had even finished high school at all. 

"I thought I was doing well but my compulsion has been getting worse." he stuttered at last and sat down again, ears burning in embarrassment. 

"Thank you very much, Hajime. I hope you feel welcome." Shimizu smiled at him again, and he knew that she meant what she'd just said. The sunlight caught on the corner of her glasses. 

Oikawa shifted closer to him and put his mouth near his ear. "You look cute when you're flustered." 

Iwaizumi didn't turn to him, but his face burned up even more. The doctor seemingly ignored them and just kept talking.

"You know everyone by now, right? And I know some here don't like to talk about their problems publicly, so I'll leave introductions and interactions to you guys." she pulled her silky black hair back on a loose ponytail and her eyes suddenly got sharper. "Anyone want to share anything else?" 

Silence fell upon the circle. Power couple glanced at Daichi worriedly. Suga kept that same dreamy, far away expression. 

Unexpectedly, Oikawa fidgeted on his seat before tentatively raising his hand in the air. "Actually. Um. I - I have been having trouble sleeping again. It's been months since it last happened, but it's now been three days and I don't think I've slept more than 10 hours total. And I know I should ask for sleep meds, but I hate taking those because they make me get grumpy and my - well, my - um, my sexual fantasies get worse. So." it was his turn to blush now, and he looked beautiful blushing, a soft pink dust on his cheeks. Still, Iwaizumi wanted to hold him and make that blush go away and get him comfortable and at ease.

"Maybe something happened? Your insomnia is triggered by some stuff, right? Can you remember anything bad or unusual?" Makki asked, and then looked surprised at himself for having responded to someone else. In fact, everyone in the circle did, Shimizu most of all. Iwaizumi wondered how those group sessions usually went.

Oikawa lowered his head and moved even closer to Hajime, as if he was searching for some kind of shelter. "I - I don't know. But you're probably right. I'll try to remember." 

That was as far as sharing went, apparently, but the doctor seemed satisfied enough.

Now it was Kuroo who was raising his hand. "I know some of you have been wondering, so. Well. I  _ have _ been less violent since Kenma was moved to another hallway. I don't really know why. But I've been more… depressed?" 

Mattsun clutched Makki's hand tighter. "Watch out." he said, and it sounded like it was more to himself than to Kuroo.

Shimizu nodded. "He's right. But I wouldn't worry too hard about that, Kuroo. You and Kenma are not the ones here at most risk of developing codependency." at that, she glanced at Suga and Daichi, her lips pursed. Koushi simply shrugged, looking almost pleased with himself, but Daichi ducked his head, as if it was his fault. 

"Who's Kenma?" Iwaizumi whispered to Oikawa. 

"Kuroo's… partner? Or something. They're very close to each other. I'd say they're dating, but Kuroo and I fuck sometimes, so I'm not really sure." Tooru answered. 

"I see." Iwaizumi looked at everyone else in the circle. Asahi was talking now about how his schizophrenia had gotten just a little harder because he hadn't self-harmed in a long time. Daichi was trembling a bit as Suga murmured something to him. Kuroo adjusted the tape around his bloody knuckles.

"Can people even fall in love in a place like this?" Iwaizumi mumbled to himself. He raised his head to see Oikawa look at him with wide, honest brown eyes, full of feeling. 

"C-can they?" the boy stuttered. 

Hajime was quickly finding out he couldn't lie to Tooru. "I think so?" he said, honestly. 

Oikawa gave him a soft smile. "I think so, too." 

It was a start. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this wasn't a disappointment. this is not my usual style. it's also not my mother language - i'm brazilian and portuguese is so much easier to work with than english, i mean. does english even have any synonyms? like, at all?


	4. the shannon number

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you ever see the chess pieces as people?" Suga asked. He calmly knocked down his own king. Resigning. "I'm sure you can guess this one?" he asked, smirking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Shannon number, named after Claude Elwood Shannon, is equal to 10ˆ120, and is an estimate of the game complexity of chess. It's bigger than the number of atoms that exist in the observable universe.

Saturday was chess day. 

Interestingly enough, the ward was actually quite organized, in a way - the patients seemed to have come up with a certain amount of rules along the years that sounded stupid and nonsensical at first sight, but were in fact essential to maintain the already-fragile harmony that stretched between the boys. 

The first to wake up makes enough coffee to everyone. Asahi always showers first because his individual sessions are the earliest. Suga always showers last because the cold water helps him wake up. Oikawa and Kuroo revise the book essays on Tuesdays. Volleyball on Sunday afternoons. When Daichi and Suga are alone in one of their rooms, they can’t be bothered. No one is allowed to ignore Oikawa’s list of  _ don’t’s.  _

_ (“What’s this list of don’t’s?” _

_ Oikawa giggled, sounding self-conscious. “Some stupid list that covers just about everything that makes me freak out. Koushi wrote it down and terrified everyone about it so now they all do their best not to trigger me. It’s a bit embarrassing.”) _

Classic music in the mornings - no exceptions unless someone is triggered by something. No pranks. Makki and Mattsun’s alone time has to be respected. No one messes with Asahi unless they have a death wish. 

And Saturday is chess day. 

The first one to wake up had to set up the boards. There were three of them available, one more worn-out than the other two. According to Oikawa, no one could quite remember when or why that tradition had first started, but it was deeply ingrained in the day-to-day lives of the patients; they didn't play chess in any other day, favoring card games and sports, and some of them seemed to have a gentle rivalry with a specific game partner. Oikawa and Kuroo frequently taunted each other over previous wins or losses, and Daichi and Asahi were in a strong competition in which neither budged. 

_ How do I even fit in here, _ Hajime thought. And  _ how did I ever fit out there in the first place? _

-

When Iwaizumi arrived at the common room, the three chess boards were already in their places atop the small tables, and the ward's power couple was idly chatting over a shared cup of coffee. They greeted him simultaneously, voices mingling together in such a way it made Hajime once more wary of their peculiar connection. 

"Aren't you two playing?" he asked while pouring some coffee for himself. 

"Nah."

"The others take chess day too seriously."

"We don't like to get in the way."

"We'd just rather play poker with them after they're done."

Iwaizumi nodded absently and fiddled with the band-aid around his ring finger. Once more, his compulsion had kept him awake, writing down absolutely everything, and both his wrist and fingers were aching.

Happy chatter came muffled from behind the door. Oikawa and Kuroo barged in, the brunette carefully cradling a huge book against his chest. He looked half-asleep, hair sticking up everywhere as he lightly exchanged insults with his bunkmate.

Oikawa slammed the book down on the nearest table. "I'm destroying you this time, Tetsu!" he sat on the chair behind the white pieces in the board. "I want whites."

Kuroo smirked and went to pour coffee for both of them. "It's the third week in a row you've said that. Blacks for me, as always."

Tooru turned to Hajime with a lively smile, disrupted only by the dark circles under his eyes. Hajime wondered when was the last time he had slept for more than five hours. He wondered if the two of them would ever be able to share insomniac nights. He wondered what the other would say if he ever saw what he wrote so fiercely on his journals - Hajime had been so horrified by seeing the inside of Suga's wardrobe and yet; how were his journals much different from that nonsensical carving? 

"You're playing with me after I win this, aren't you, Iwa-chan?" 

Iwaizumi felt his mind shake under the weight of those brown eyes that struggled to still be beautiful and bright. "Well, I guess? I mean, I'd like to..."

"Are you playing, Hajime? Great! You and I can play while Tooru's busy!" a sugary sweet voice cut through the air, clear and demanding and leaving no room for questions. 

Suga was standing at the door, looking sleepy, smiling with both his eyes and lips. One of his hands had its fingers entwined with Daichi's, and the other was carefully placed on Asahi's shoulder. “Those two always exclude me, so I always have to wait until one of the games is over, but now I can play with you!”

-

It was clear from the start that Suga didn't want to play. He sat behind the white pieces and beckoned Iwaizumi to sit down on the other chair. The common room was eerily quiet like that, the only sounds being the pieces being placed down and a soft conversation between Daichi and Asahi, who were playing at the nearest table. They seemed completely at ease with each other - in another place, another time, maybe, they could've been mistaken by two classmates, two best friends enjoying their Saturdays before graduating high school. 

"I know you saw what's in my wardrobe." he said, still smiling a perfect smile that showed absolutely nothing of what was going through his mind. 

Iwaizumi flinched. "I don't-"

"Don't lie to me, I know you did." he twirled one of the white rooks between his fingers. "So, what did you think?" 

He sounded like he was asking what Hajime would like to eat for dinner. He sounded like he was asking about the next day's physics homework. He sounded playful and almost indifferent and Hajime felt his mouth dry up. 

"Art Brut." Suga continued. The sunlight was trapped between his locks, as if it'd been captured and locked up in a silver cage. His eyes were very bright, brighter than they should be.

Hajime had the presence of mind to frown. "I-I'm sorry, what?"

"Jean Dubuffet. 1945. The art of the crazy." his smile waned. "Of course I'm not an artist, Hajime. But, still. What did you think? Did you understand it?”

“I don’t think so.”

Suga shrugged, but he seemed slightly disappointed. “You will, soon. You’re smart.”

He moved one of his pawns. Iwaizumi took that as an invitation to start the actual game, and imitated his movement. They kept going like that, actively playing against each other, and, for a moment, Iwaizumi could understand what drew everyone towards the loony bin's silvery sadist. He was magnetic, not in the way Oikawa was magnetic, not through beauty and underlying promises of whatever, but in a subtle, unquestioning way. He was calm and collected and smart, he seemed to be in control of all situations, he knew what he wanted and he spared no efforts to do so. Like Nietzsche's  übermensch or something. 

"Do you ever see the pieces as people?" Suga asked at the same time Iwaizumi said, "Why did  _ you _ write Oikawa's list of  _ don't's _ ?"

Suga smiled sweetly and moved his knight. "People shouldn't suffer without a reason. Suffering has to come with a purpose. Accidently triggering Tooru and making him have panic attacks doesn't have any specific reason. Let's just say I want to protect him - and everyone - from needless pain."

Iwaizumi moved his bishop. "What do you mean, seeing the pieces as people?"

"Okay, follow my line of thought." His opponent pointed at the rooks. "Those are you and Daichi." his point finger traced the knights. "Those are Makki and Mattsun. The bishops are, evidently, Asahi and Tetsu."

Suga's mouth slowly drew its corners up in a sharp movement, as if his lips were edges of a knife, and he calmly knocked down his own king.  _ Resigning.  _ "I'm sure you can guess this one?" he asked. 

_ Why are his eyes so bright?  _ Iwaizumi thought, and couldn't find any more words in himself.

-

"It's not a very intuitive line of thought, but he explained it to me once." Oikawa grabbed the rooks.  _ Those are you and Daichi. _ "The rooks. Too strong of a moral and ethical sense. It's easy to predict their movements, but should never be taken lightly."

The knights.  _ Those are Makki and Mattsun.  _ "The knights are wild cards. Not to be trusted. Can turn a game upside down, can shove everything down into chaos."

The bishops.  _ The bishops are, evidently, Asahi and Tetsu. _ "Normally straightforward enough, but unpredictable. One has to be careful while using them."

He touched the king to his lips with a self-conscious little smile. "I'm the king, evidently.  _ Powerful, magnetic, has to be the center, otherwise nothing will work. Needs to be protected, cared for. Yet, has so much potential if handled by a skilled player.  _ That's what he told me." 

There was no one else at the common room now. Oikawa and Iwaizumi were sitting at opposite sides of one of the chess boards. Tooru had won against Kuroo for the first time that month, and Asahi and Daichi had decided to call it a draw. Suga had dragged Daichi for a private game at his room - according to Oikawa, they actually did play, and it was about the only time they had conversations that resembled something that slightly seemed like a healthy relationship. 

"Who is he, then?" Iwaizumi asked, eyeing the pieces with suspicion. 

"The only one left, obviously. Pay attention, Iwa-chan!" Oikawa taunted, but his mocking grin was a bit empty. He twirled the white piece. "The queen to my king."

Iwaizumi frowned. "But you two don't have anything serious… or do you?"

Oikawa shook his head quickly, silky hair falling in front of his eyes.  _ When had he last gotten a haircut,  _ Hajime wondered. "No, no, nothing like that. I mean. We do have sex sometimes, but that's about it."

Makki’s voice sounded in Iwaizumi’s brain:  _ Long story short, he's always either thinking about sex or having sex.  _

"Why are you here anyway? I've been meaning to ask, but-"

"Oh, no, it's okay."  _ Why always so eager to please?  _ "The nice, scientific name is hypersexuality. Among other stuff. Comorbidity is a bitch, huh? But hypersexuality is what got me here. Basically, my mind is so obsessed with sex that it can make me enter dangerous situations simply to get what it wants. The places I’ve gotten in because of that... Honestly, I’m glad I’m here. It stops me. From, like, putting myself out there." he glanced away from Hajime. 

"Specially since, because of… well, because of other stuff, my ability to consent is very...blurry? In a way." he continued as he aligned the pieces on their proper places at the board. "But the people here are trustworthy in that aspect at least, so they help me. I know I shouldn't, it just strengthens my addiction. I've gone to bed with everyone but Asahi, because he's asexual, and Dai, because he only wants Koushi. Koushi is my most frequent bed partner, because he needs to let energy out and me and Dai are about the only ones who can take it."

_ You don't really seem like you can take it.  _ "But he loves Daichi, doesn't he?"

"He  _ does _ . I know he does. It wasn't in his plans, though. It just...happened? The shrinks are worried. It makes Dai's depression worse, and there's always the risk of codependency, which could be disastrous in their case."

"Codependency..." Iwaizumi recalled what he'd written in his journal. Makki and Mattsun and the ouroboros. "Is that the reason why Makki and Mattsun are here? That doctor commented something about it in the group session."

Oikawa bit his lower lip. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Why can't they just, I don't know, separate them or something?"

"They tried that last year. It...didn't go well. At all."

Makki's sleepy, mischievous eyes glinted on Hajime's mind. "What happened?"

"The same thing that got them here in the first place. They moved Makki to another ward and Mattsun tried to kill himself. They had no other choice but to put them together again." 

"They seem pretty stable, though."

"As long as they're together." 

Iwaizumi hummed. "Say, can I ask you something else?"

"Sure, anything."

“Why did you help me? That day at Daichi's room?" 

Oikawa smiled at him, a true smile, sincere and hopeful. “Because I also panicked on my first day here. And because having to talk someone out of self-harming is a really heavy emotional load and you didn’t seem like you were able to deal with that just then. Yet, you still did. You’re very brave, you know." he lowered his lashes seductively - seducing people was like breathing to him by now. "And very handsome.” 

Iwaizumi shamelessly stared back at him, green eyes firm. “You’re so…”

Oikawa closed his eyes then, smile weakening, and braced himself for the usual.  _ You’re so pretty, beautiful, hot, sexy, good, slutty, easy, easy, easy. _

“You’re so nice. And caring. Thank you, really.” Hajime took Tooru's hand between his and raised it to his lips, kissing it softly.  _ You're so beautiful too,  _ he meant to say,  _ the most beautiful person I've ever seen _ , but it was all everyone ever had to say about Oikawa. He didn't think the other boy needed to hear any more of that, even if it was true. 

Oikawa opened his eyes in surprise, and looked at Iwaizumi as if he was the strangest person in the world before abruptly moving forward and kissing him properly on the lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i detest this chapter. it's badly written and chopped. please forgive me for that - i had an awful week, and i thought about posting this next week, but i thought you guys deserved a shorter wait.


	5. love lost believers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oikawa was warm and beautiful and smiling against his lips and he wasn't really complaining. Until he felt the other shaking. And then he was complaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "dig up her bones but leave the soul alone  
> boy with a broken soul  
> heart with a gaping hole  
> dark twisted fantasy turned to reality  
> kissing death and losing my breath  
> these are hard times for dreamers  
> and love lost believers."
> 
> (bones - MS MR)

Hajime hadn’t kissed many people in his life. He'd made out two or three times with girls and boys (he was not picky, neither did he care about minor things such as gender). None of them had been really remarkable. Mainly, he could see the appeal of kissing, but there was nothing too special about it. It was sort of nice, the intimacy, but cuddling was better, and holding hands as well, so he didn't really mind kissing, but neither did he actively search for it. 

Kissing Oikawa was the same, in a way, but he  _ was _ remarkable. His lips were soft, he was skilled with his tongue, he was so responsive it made Hajime amazed at the reactions he could coax out off the brunette with nothing but his hands massaging his waist. Tooru was  _ experienced _ , and it showed. He knew what he was doing, and yet nothing about his little hums or his nails softly pressing on Hajime’s scalp felt rational - it felt as natural, as right as breathing. 

Hajime didn't enjoy kissing particularly, but Oikawa was warm and beautiful and smiling against his lips and he wasn't really complaining. 

Until he felt the other shaking. And then he was complaining. 

He pulled away immediately, and his heart shattered a bit when he saw Oikawa instinctively moving forward to chase his mouth, and shattered completely when the other blinked his bright eyes open and frowned. 

“What’s wrong?” they both asked at the same time. Oikawa’s lips were red and shiny, and Hajime let himself enjoy the sensation of tracing them with his thumb. 

“You’re  _ shaking _ . Are you okay?” Hajime asked. The other frowned deeper, put one of his own hands in front of his eyes and, yeah, there it was; his fingers were shaking, his whole body, in fact, as if he was very cold. 

Tooru shrugged. “I’m a bit tired, that’s all. I’ll be fine if I don’t stand up.” he leaned on Hajime’s hand that was still cupping his cheek. “Probably.” he added as an afterthought.

"'A bit tired?'" Iwaizumi caressed his face. "You look  _ exhausted _ . I feel bad." 

"Why?" Oikawa looked a bit panicky now, his body tensing up in Hajime's arms. "Did I do something wrong?"

Iwaizumi hushed him, grabbing his hands. "No, no, you were wonderful, you  _ are _ wonderful. But you look like you're going to pass out. Have you even slept?"

Oikawa was shaking harder now, eyelids heavy, but he found the energy to shrug again. "Not much? But it doesn't matter-"

"Of course it matters!" Hajime exclaimed, a bit horrified.  _ Who taught this boy that his well being doesn't matter even when he's about to pass out from exhaustion?  _

" _ Why _ ?" Tooru seemed genuinely confused and still panicky. 

"Because I'm not going to let you make out with me while you're on the verge of fainting, even if that was the best kiss I've ever had in my life." Iwaizumi sighed. "Look, just stay here, I'm going to put the boards away and then I'm taking you to your bedroom and you're going to sleep." he said, in a tone that left no room for protest, and got up from his seat, moving quickly so to go back to Oikawa as fast as possible. 

"Are you sure I did nothing wrong?" Oikawa asked again in a tiny voice. He sounded so unsure and lost it gave Iwaizumi a bad feeling in his guts. 

"Tooru, you're fucking perfect, believe me. But your health is more important than my satisfaction right now." he answered as he put the two boards on their respective drawer and went back to the other boy. "C'mon." he offered a hand to Oikawa, who weakly shook his head and, instead of taking his hand, threw himself in his arms once more. Hajime could  _ feel  _ the weakness in the other's body as he wrapped his arm around his waist and guided him. 

The way to Oikawa's and Kuroo's bedroom was short, and in no time Iwaizumi was placing Oikawa gently on the lower bed of the bunk after having dimmed out the lights and closed the door behind them. The brunette was still trembling, from head to toe, but his shoulders weren't as tense and his eyes weren't as anxious now. 

"Will you stay here with me, at least?" he asked, reaching out for Iwaizumi. Despite of the worry gnawing at the edges of his mind, Iwaizumi smiled and moved to lay down next to the other boy. 

They stayed like that, not touching, just looking at each other as Oikawa took deep breaths. 

"You know… No one has ever really cared? About me being tired or anxious or whatever? To be honest, it's kind of weird, dealing with someone who does." Tooru whispered. Hajime let their fingers entwine. "I don't really get it. But it's nice. You're strange. I really like you, you know."

Hajime brought Oikawa's hand to his lips and kissed it softly. "I really like you too. Now, if you're not sleeping, at least try to relax. 

Oikawa hummed in agreement and closed his eyes. "Will you kiss me when I wake up?"

"I will kiss you whenever you want me to. Now sleep. And stop worrying."

-

"Yesterday was my birthday." 

"I knew." 

"Did you, now?" 

The third chess board laid forgotten in the space between Suga and Daichi, the game only half-played. Their Saturdays were always peculiar; sometimes they would stay silent all the time, playing attentively, barely looking at each other. Other times, they wouldn’t even play at all, and spend the afternoon idly chatting as Asahi napped on the upper bed of the bunk he shared with Daichi. It was comfortable like that; it was as if Suga laid down his weapons and knives and hurtful words and let himself enjoy some genuine human interactions. 

They were reaching the end of Suga’s annual Bad Week, as Asahi had dubbed it, so the silver-haired teen was apparently feeling a bit more emotional and talkative than usual. He looked soft, lost inside a sweater that was far too big for him, hair sticking up a bit. 

“I did.” Daichi answered and stared at Koushi.  _ Can I come there?, _ he asked silently. Suga narrowed his beautiful brown eyes before shrugging and moving the board aside so they could sit next to each other on the bed. 

“The day before yesterday was  _ his _ birthday.” said Koushi, pressing closer to Daichi, entwining their legs together. As if they were lovers. As if they were normal. Above them, Asahi snored softly. 

“I knew that, too.”

Suga gave a self-depreciative little laugh. “Did you? Well, thanks for keeping quiet about it, then.” he sighed and let his head fall back against the wall behind him. “Bad Week is almost over. Yay.” 

"You don't sound very happy about it." Daichi took the liberty to place a hand on the other's thigh to try and comfort him a bit. It was kind of useless, though - Suga had that dreamy, far off look in his face now - but Koushi was wearing shorts and his skin was warm and it gave Daichi a point of contact in reality. 

They stayed in silence for a while. 

"When did I tell you about this? About our birthdays?"

"Last year."

"Hm."

"You told me and Asahi."

"Oh, I see."

Suga shifted even closer to him, let him wrap his arm around his shoulders. He was thinner, Daichi noticed. Thinner and a little bit paler. He had been sleeping somewhat properly, Daichi knew he had - they often slept together and Suga was the less insomniac one of them both, anyway - but he wasn't sure if he had been eating. 

"You know what sucks?" Koushi whispered, seemingly more to himself than to Daichi. 

"What?"

"We should've been getting better, shouldn't we? But it seems like it only gets worse over time."

"I don't know about the others, but honestly? The two of us probably make each other's condition far worse. 

"Hm. Yeah, you're right."

Suga shrugged off Daichi's arm from around his shoulders and started to put away the chess board that was still laying on the bed. Asahi coughed a little in his sleep. 

"How long do we have before Asahi wakes up?" he asked. 

"At least forty minutes? I think." 

"How long was it since we last got in trouble because we closed the door?"

Daichi sighed and took off his shirt. "Two months ago or something. They might be paying more attention now because the shrinks are worried we'll become codependent." 

Suga smiled cynically as he tiptoed across the room to close the door as silently as possible. After he did so, he climbed on Daichi's lap, wrapping his soft legs around his waist and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Codependency or not, you know I'm not letting you leave this hellhole, right?"

Daichi wrapped his arms tightly around Suga and tilted his head up. "We either leave together or we don't."

Koushi laughed openly. "Which means we probably won't." he said and took Daichi's lips in a searing kiss.

-

Oikawa and Suga left the bedrooms in the exact same time.  

Oikawa was sleepy, yawning, hair completely messy. He had slept around an hour or so, and he felt somewhat disoriented, his feet unsure as he walked down the hallway. Suga, on the opposite, was smiling that maniac smile of his, a large hickey starting to become purple on the smooth curve of his neck, and he stopped Oikawa with a hand to his shoulder.  

"Don't fall in love, Tooru. You're too pretty for that." 

  
Oikawa scoffed, voice still sharp even just after waking up. "Says the one who fell for depression boy as soon as he was admitted."

  
Suga narrowed his eyes. "I'm not in love with Daichi."

  
"Koushi, darling." Oikawa leaned on the wall, crossing his arms and smiling. "I was born to have a dick up my ass. I was made to be fucked. My body is tuned to sex all the time. You know what makes me such a good fuck? I can recognize my partner's reactions more strongly than anyone. Every shiver, gasp, moan, no matter how soft or low, I can feel them. You whisper Daichi's name everytime we fuck. You think I can't listen, because I hate being close to you when I'm topping, but you moaned his name so many times and, to me, it sounded as clear as your shouting. You want him so badly it's tearing you apart, and hurting him is the only way you know to deal with it."

Oikawa braced himself for an explosion, for violence and fighting and blood, but Suga merely shook his head, still smirking maniacally. 

"I can't fall in love with Daichi."

"Why not?" 

Suga fiddled with the  _ unstable _ bracelet fit around his bony wrist. He'd won that ever since he'd nearly stabbed himself in the jugular with a pencil six months ago in one of the group sessions. 

( _ "Is Suga a psychopath or what?" _

_ "Nah, not a psychopath. He's a sociopath." _

_ "Isn't it the same thing?" _

_ "Not really, Iwa-chan. Psychopathy is genetic. Like, you're born with it and you can't get rid of it. Sociopathy is something you develop. There's the genetic predisposition and all, but it won't show up unless there's some heavy trauma or something. Besides, psychopaths don't have any conscience at all, and sociopaths have a very twisted conscience, but it's there." _

_ "How do you know all that stuff?" _

_ "Oh, I wanted to be a psychiatrist. I'd applied to med school and then I'd specialize in psychiatry. A bit ironic, isn't it?)  _

"People suffer when they are loved. They die. And I already said I'm not letting Daichi leave  _ or _ die." 

Oikawa felt his own face contort in an anguished expression. " _ Koushi _ , you're not like-"

Suga interrupted him abruptly. "You're right, I'm not like _him_. I'm fucking worse. I'm in a loony bin after all, aren't I? Go fuck your new boyfriend and leave me alone."   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos to my best friend/ex-boyfriend for introducing me to this chapter's song.   
> this chapter came up far easier than the previous one. it is a bit shorter, though. but these three scenes were already previously planned and i didn't want to add anything else just to make the word count higher. hope you enjoy it!


	6. a voice, a voice so quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hajime just stared at him, dumbfounded. “Damn, Tooru, what happened to you?”  
> Oikawa blinked up at him. “What do you mean?”  
> “That’s not… that’s not normal. What happened to you? Why does this affect you so much?”  
> “Oh.” Oikawa smiled. “That. I thought you knew. Or had it figured out by now. Do you really wanna hear it? It’s not… a nice story.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "and you say that i'm the devil, you know, and i don't disagree;  
> no, i don't see the harm.  
> they say, "you're crazy, just leave him, he'll suffocate you",  
> but i wanna be in your arms.  
> we're heading deep inside lives a voice, a voice so quiet,  
> but i can't hear that voice when your heart beats next to mine.  
> i can't quit you, i can't quit you;  
> and I'm gonna regret it." 
> 
> (quit - ariana grande feat. cashmere cat)
> 
> TW: RAPE MENTION

The way Asahi saw it, there were two kinds of people in the world. People who listen and people who talk. 

It all came down to that, really. 

Asahi listened. He had done so his entire life. 

As ironic as that sounded, considering everything. 

Despite what had gotten him in the mental institution in the first place, though, it wasn't really about that. He just… walked around. And listened. Sometimes it wasn't even on purpose, but after an entire childhood and teenage years of tiptoeing around people who would expect things from him without ever telling him what those were, it’d kind of become an habit. 

He usually heard it when Suga and Daichi fucked on the bunk beneath his own. He heard it when Oikawa snuck into Makki and Mattsun's bedroom on most Wednesday nights. He heard it when Kuroo punched the wall over and over late at night, but he couldn't really distinguish the curses that came muffled out of his mouth. When he left his individual sessions and walked through the hallway down to his bedroom, he heard Oikawa's mocking, self-destructive tone talking to the psychiatrist on the office right next to Asahi's. 

He had heard it, Suga's first Bad Week on the loony bin, the way he’d carved out random things on the inside of his wardrobe and how he'd alternated what should've been nights of sleep between earth-shattering tears and maniac, sardonic laughter. 

He had heard it, that day when Oikawa had been feeling far too reckless (and a little bit insane) after having sex with Suga for the first time - Asahi had been glad Daichi hadn’t listened to _that_ , bless the little heavy sleeper - and hadn't stepped around the shards of glass from something Kuroo and Daichi had broken earlier while fighting (he’d heard that fight as well, most of the ward had). Nobody had been around when Oikawa kept strolling like the king he was on top of the shards, tears streaming almost beautifully down his face before he fell to the ground on his knees with a small pained gasp, and so Asahi had ran to him and scooped him in his arms and taken him to his bedroom so he could use the first-aid kit he had kind of borrowed from his psychiatrist and take the pieces of glass off and patch up Oikawa’s feet. 

He had heard it when Kenma had been moved away to another ward and Kuroo had basically tried to destroy his entire bedroom with his bare hands; one would think most people in the ward would’ve listened to that, but Kuroo was so quiet when he was in his worst destructive mood and Oikawa had been on someone else’s room, so Asahi had silently gotten up from his bed and held the other patient back and tried to soothe him and stop him from actively destroying anything while Oikawa didn’t come back. 

And, in fact, he had actually been the one who heard when Mattsun slashed open his wrists after the doctors had moved Makki to Kenma’s new ward. He had been walking around the hallway at night, doing his best to ignore the stupid voice in his head who kept trying to have a dialogue or whatever with him, when he’d heard a loud thump from one of the bedrooms, and some kind of creepy instinct in his guts had told him to get inside and take a look. After that, he’d only managed to get Oikawa - previous experiences had proven he was the one to go to in such a crisis like that - and vaguely tell him what’d happened before running back to his bedroom and panicking for the rest of the night while Daichi held him. 

Asahi listened. Mostly, that’s all he did. Sometimes he took action. Most of the time, he didn’t. 

Like now. 

He let out a breath when a soft click let him know that Suga had left the room already. The two of them, Suga and Daichi, had been quieter than usual, maybe because the little sadist was still disturbed enough by his yearly Bad Week to go around spreading his personal favorite brand of chaos. 

Asahi didn’t like sex, but he didn’t really mind being an unknown witness to other people having sex. He wasn’t a voyeur or anything, and, to be honest, he would rather not be in the room or anywhere near when stuff like that happened. But it didn’t freak him out, not like other things did. So he allowed his friends to fool around in his room. Specially because, since the doctors knew he had no desire for sex or any sexual attraction at all, they never considered the possibility of Suga and Daichi fucking on the same room Asahi slept. Which made it easier for the two of them, and easier for Asahi because they stayed out of trouble. 

When he’d told his parents that he didn’t know what sexual attraction felt like, they’d blamed that on his social anxiety. Asahi thought they were wrong. Kenma was agoraphobic and far more awkward with people, and they had sexual urges just fine. It was just how Asahi was made. 

He knew Suga and Daichi loved him, differently from the way the rest of the patients did. He knew because they had told him so a few months ago, in one of the weekends they had been allowed to go to the hospital’s courtyard.

Koushi had been in a good mood that whole week, laughing and teasing, clinging to Daichi and swaying their linked hands back and forth, calling Asahi’s name every two seconds. Daichi, being the smitten puppy he was, had been a bit happier than usual, by mere association (Asahi thought Doctor Shimizu’s concerns about those two developing codependency were far from unfounded).

The three of them had woken up earlier than everyone else, earlier even than the power couple, and had been the first ones to go downstairs to the courtyard and enjoy some actual, real sunlight and soft green grass. Suga had demanded a piggy-back ride, and Asahi had granted it, laughing and lifting him up easily. Daichi had started chasing after them, and it’d turned into a childish, messy, fun game of catch until Daichi had grabbed at them too hard and sent Suga and Asahi stumbling to the ground, giggling crazily. 

Afterwards, they’d just laid down on the grass and watched as everyone else got down and had fun together, never mind the usual fight between Kuroo and someone else that quickly turned into playful brawls, never mind that here and then someone whistled at Oikawa, who just blushed and turned away, a bit disturbed from getting more attention than usual due to his long legs being exposed by his shorts

Never mind the usual stuff. It’d been a sunny day without any clouds and Suga was in a good mood. 

After a long, tiring volleyball game with everyone from their ward - Oikawa and Kuroo had stayed on the same team, which was completely unfair and shouldn’t be allowed, really - they’d all gone upstairs to shower before coming back down again. Asahi, Daichi and Suga had stayed behind, just the three of them in the courtyard, sweaty and messy and contented. 

Suga, bright-eyed and exhausted and seemingly in a whole other spiritual dimension, had turned to him and treaded his fingers through his long waves of hair. “Asahi, I love you so much.”

Asahi had laughed lightly. “I know, you’ve told me before.”

“No, not like that. I love you. Like, like me and Dai.”

Daichi had shifted closer, hand casually placed on Suga’s narrow waist. “He does. He told me. And I do, too.”

“We love you like… like if we were out of here we would ask you to date us.”

Asahi had laughed once more, softly enough not to cause any undesired reaction. “Both of you?”

“Both of us.”

“I would say yes.” 

“Good.” Suga had nodded, pleased, before laying his head on Asahi’s lap, his hand reaching out for Daichi’s so he could entwine their fingers together. His _unstable_ bracelet had been impossible to ignore, it still was. And that had been all. 

So, Asahi didn’t mind, hearing Suga and Daichi have sex on the bunk underneath his own. It was intimate and sometimes it was soft and it made Asahi feel like he belonged to something just a little bigger than that hospital. But with Koushi away in his own bedroom for one, because he wasn’t allowed to have bunkmates, and Daichi’s sobs muffled against the pillow for one or two minutes before he fell asleep, he thought the hospital had very strong limits when it came to narrowing down everyone’s conscience.

The voice had been bothering him all day, so he decided to get down and walk around a bit, touch the walls and the objects and feel a little more real. As soon as he closed the door behind himself, he heard a very familiar crying. 

It was strange, how used they all were to each other’s crying. 

Hearing that, he changed his path and strolled down to Oikawa’s and Kuroo’s bedroom, where Kuroo was sound asleep on the top bunk and Iwaizumi was napping quietly on the bottom one. Asahi reached out carefully and touched Iwaizumi’s shoulder, trying not to scare him. 

“Wh-” the boy stuttered, still confused and sleepy. 

“Shh, don’t worry, everything’s okay. You were here with Oikawa, right?”

Iwaizumi frowned, moving to sit up on the bed. “Yeah, but we didn’t do anything or-”

“I know, it’s okay. Even if you _had_ done something, it'd have been okay. But I think I heard him crying in the hallway, and I think you should go there and try to calm him down? Maybe?”

The boy got up so fast he almost knocked his head on Kuroo's bunk before running out of the bedroom, hair still mussed and feet unstable since he seemed to be a little sleepy. 

Asahi smiled a bit despite himself. It was _nice_ seeing someone caring about Oikawa enough to literally bolt out of the room to help him because he'd probably been crying. 

Speaking of. 

He should go back and either lay down next to Daichi or wake him up and serve him some hot chocolate. 

-

True to Asahi’s words, Oikawa was sitting down on the floor, back against the wall, crying so sweetly it made him look like an art piece. Iwaizumi stopped running and sat down next to him, unsure what to do with his hands. Oikawa seemed to know, though, because he grabbed at Hajime’s hand and tugged it to his own neck. Iwaizumi took the hint and wrapped his fingers lightly on the back of Oikawa’s neck, scratching the skin softly to try and ground him with some kind of physical feeling. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked. Oikawa sniffed and put his head on Hajime’s shoulder. 

“Say, Iwa-chan. You feel something for me, right? You _want_ me, right?” 

“Of course I do, why would you be asking something like this?”

Oikawa flashed him a very sad smile, a smile that carried so much self-depreciation and bad memories Hajime moved his hand to the other’s waist and brought him closer. “Rejection is a bitch, even when I know it’s not really happening. My mind just… it doesn’t work. Not really, not when it comes to that. And I was okay, I swear, but then I woke up and kind of freaked out. But I didn’t want to bother you _again_ by being needy and Suga was with Daichi and Makki and Mattsun are having their alone time right now and Kuro was asleep so… I just wanted to let things out. But Asahi, bless his heart, pays too much attention to all of us. So, yeah. Sorry for bothering both of you. I’ll be fine.” 

Hajime just stared at him, dumbfounded. “Damn, Tooru, what _happened_ to you?”

Oikawa blinked up at him, seemingly a bit more comfortable now that Iwaizumi’s hand had moved instinctively to his thigh, even if he wasn’t doing anything other than caressing the skin lightly. “What do you mean?”

“That’s not… that’s not _normal._ What happened to you? Why does this affect you so much? Why does me refusing to kiss you because you were on the verge of passing out makes you think I don’t want you when I do, I want you so much?”

“Oh.” Oikawa smiled. “That. I thought you knew. Or had it figured out by now. Do you really wanna hear it? It’s not… a nice story.”

“If you feel comfortable telling me…”

“Oh, it’s okay. Basically, I’ve always been like this?” he gestured to his face, and Iwaizumi understood it immediately. Oikawa had always been _beautiful._ Far too beautiful. “And I started messing around with people too early, so. People talked. I’d never had sex with anyone, though. Just making out and stuff. But people commented, they said so many things, Iwa-chan, because I’d reject some people and accept others. Snake, whore, slut, the list goes on. And I didn’t really mind? I was in senior year, doing well at school, always at the top of the class rankings, I was captain of the volleyball team, I had friends, good friends. I was doing well enough. I was about to graduate and I wanted to go to med school and become a psychiatrist. I’d been having some issues with my family because of my sexuality, but nothing too bad. I was getting by. 

“Then, one day, I was going back home. I was alone, because it was my turn to  stay behind to lock the gym and the club room. I’d also trained a bit by myself, working on my serves. It wasn’t even that late.” he shook his head, tears threatening to fall again. “It wasn’t that late, it was around 9 pm. I was going home, I was alone, and then three guys from the team - they weren’t regulars or even on the bench so I didn’t even know their names at the time - just came out of nowhere and. Well. I’m sure you can guess?”

Iwaizumi was completely speechless. “I - I-“

Oikawa pressed even closer to him, making Iwaizumi tighten the hold on his thigh. It seemed to ground him, in a way. “Ironically, I’d read about it before, I enjoyed researching about psychiatric stuff. There are two things that might happen after someone is raped. Either they develop a very strong repulsion or - well, either that or they develop a sex addiction. Kind of a very fucked up defense mechanism. Your mind starts to believe that, since people seem to think you’re no more than a sex object, your worth as a person is measured by sex. That’s what happened. I became hypersexual. I quit the team, I had to, and I started to put myself in dangerous situations to keep myself satisfied. My grades were still good, weirdly. But then, it became too much. My parents had already found a shrink for me, by then, and when I finally got the guts to tell him what’d happened, and what I had been doing to myself, he suggested for us to wait until just after my graduation and then put me here. I was on the verge of starting to risk my own life. 

“That’s why I don’t really mind, being here. It was worse out there. And that’s why I freaked out earlier today. You’re the first person I developed feelings for since I got here, and the possibility of you rejecting me was awful. So, yeah. That’s it.”

Iwaizumi couldn’t think of anything to do. Anything else other than tilt Oikawa’s head up with a finger on his chin and kiss him like they’d both been drowning, wave after wave crashing on top of them, and had only now managed to swim up and gasp for air. Oikawa’s lips tasted salty from his tears, but were as soft as before, his body pliant and responsive and _wanting_ as he grabbed at Hajime desperately.

Hajime wondered if those three boys had kissed that mouth. The idea made him grasp Oikawa’s perfect hair and try to wipe out every other memory this boy had of kissing other people in his mind. It wasn’t a matter of particularly enjoying kissing, because he still didn’t, not that much. It was a matter of giving Tooru what he wanted, of giving him the attention and love he needed, of showing him with actions just how badly Hajime had fallen for him in just a few days. 

“Iwa-chan, _Hajime_ , I love you, I love you so much, please keep touching me like that, please, don’t ever stop, please, I’ll do anything, just-“ Oikawa babbled frantically between gasps for air and kisses, moving to straddle Hajime’s lap, shivering when two strong hands held his thighs. 

“Shhh, stop begging.” Hajime hushed him and wiped at the tears falling down his face. “You don’t need to beg, not with me. What do you need? What does it feel like?”

“It feels - It feels like you _love_ me, I’ve never felt like that, oh, _God-_ “ 

Iwaizumi kissed him deeply again, caressing his thighs and shivering when Oikawa grabbed at his hair. 

“I love you, Tooru, it’s okay to feel like that, it’s okay, you’re fine, I’ve got you, I love you-“

Iwaizumi hadn’t fallen in love with Oikawa at first sight. He wasn’t like that. But he needed this. They both needed this. They needed something that felt bigger than this small hospital. And they _needed_ for it to be with each other. 

Hajime had never fallen in love out of pure need of having that one person with him, but love didn’t bloom naturally in such a place. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking so long oh my god. i'm on my last week of school before summer break and it has been Hectic. i wrote this entire thing in one day. my head is pounding.
> 
> kudos to my ex-boyfriend once again for introducing me to this chapter's song.
> 
> okay, so. my summer break starts tomorrow. and while that usually means, for most people, relax time and more time to write that's. not the case with me. since i'm a third year, summer break means Studying until you die for college exams. that's all. study. until you pass out. or die. or get in college. 
> 
> which means, one of two things is going to happen: i'm either going to speed up the updates so i can finish as quickly as possible, or they're going to take a bit longer than usual, probably around a week or so. i don't know, we'll see. but i'm almost reaching the end of this. so. like i said, we'll see.
> 
> thanks once again for the kudos and comments!! they're what keeps me going when i'm like this, with an awful headache and almost falling asleep on top of my laptop.


	7. colour me in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an old saying - if there isn't, there should be - about destroyed people and how they stick together. 
> 
> They had been basically normal, until their lives shattered, and then. Well, then, the only sane thing to do would be grasp at the only thing that's not completely destroyed and don't let it go until one's able to stand again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "i tried to repress it, then i carried its crown;  
> i reached out to undress it and love let me down.  
> so i tried to erase it, but the ink bled right through,  
> almost drove myself crazy when these words led to you.  
> and all these useless dreams of living alone.  
> so come let me love you.  
> come let me love you, and then, colour me in."
> 
> (colour me in - damien rice)

_ But what's so special about him? _ _   
_

_ What's it that you see in each other that makes you behave like this? _

_ What's it that makes him different? _

_ The two of you seem so normal, such an ordinary couple. _

_ What do you even  _ do _ together? _

That was the interesting thing. They didn't do much. Nothing much out of the ordinary, anyway. They had weekly date nights. They exchanged gifts on their anniversaries and on Valentine's Day. They talked. They ate together. They kissed - but rarely in front of other people, they weren't that fond of public demonstrations of affection. They held hands and made each other coffee. They had sex, when they could. 

_ But what's so  _ special _ about him? _

From an outsider's point of view, not much, they guessed. Rationally speaking. They had been friends since their childhood, had started dating as soon as they understood what  _ dating _ really meant. They had been each other's firsts - first boyfriend, first kiss, first time. That didn't really explain it, though; there were many couples who had been childhood friends and had become lovers and were perfectly normal. 

'Hiro said it probably had begun when his mother had started drinking. 

Issei said it may have been when his father started beating him up. 

There's an old saying - if there isn't, there should be - about destroyed people and how they stick together. 

They had been basically normal, until their lives shattered, and then. Well, then, the only sane thing to do would be grasp at the only thing that's not completely destroyed and don't let it go until one's able to stand again. 

But they had been more broken than they'd thought at first, and suddenly they couldn't see a way of standing up again by themselves. It was okay, though. It was mutual. They could only wake up in the morning with each other, they could only get through the day with each other, and it was okay because they were  _ always  _ there for each other. They created a tiny world that limited itself to the space between their bodies and eyes and lips and there was no reason to try and get out of that.

The outside was so much worse.

They were already in the loony bin when, after a while of thinking, they'd decided that, if anyone was to blame, it'd be Issei's father. Because, sure, 'Hiro's alcoholic mother had her own power of completely shattering a household, and completely traumatizing her son while at that, but she left their relationship mostly alone. She was often too drunk to notice just how much time they spent together. If she did realize, she usually just took it out on 'Hiro and forgot about the entire thing the next morning. 

Issei's father, on the other hand, had found the perfect way of destroying his son: taking him away from _ that little fag he seemed to love so much _ . 

'Hiro wasn't going to do it. He really wasn't. The two of them tried to think of any other way to stay together. They spent so many nights awake trying to come up with a way of not being separated. 

But there hadn't been one.

On the morning scheduled for Issei to leave, 'Hiro had slashed his own wrists. 

See, the nice thing about being a nihilist was that you got to  _ pick _ your reason for living. Issei and 'Hiro picked each other. That was all there was to it, and there wasn't much anyone could do. 

Doctor Shimizu said that they had kind of lost their grasp on reality together. 

Issei personally disagreed. They were both very aware of the reality surrounding them. They were at a mental institution, had barely been able to start college before getting thrown there. They had schedules that told them when to eat, when to take their meds, when to go outside and when to stay inside. They were in the same ward as an unstable sociopath and his extremely depressed sort-of-boyfriend, a hypersexual who was too pretty to be entirely fair, a very soft schizophrenic and a guy with the worst anger issues ever. They had to deal with awkward group sessions, intrusive individual sessions and being under watch for most of the day. They'd had to stop the other patients from killing themselves far too many times, and locking the door seemed a distant dream. 

But they shared a bunk. They spent the entire day together holding hands and feeling each other's presence. They woke up early to enjoy the soft atmosphere of the empty common room with the sunlight streaming in. Everyone respected their  _ alone time  _ \- it was one of the main rules in the ward. Almost every Wednesday night, Oikawa came willingly to their room and the three of them literally fucked their hard feelings away until it was morning and they were too tired to speak properly. Every weekend, they were allowed to go to the courtyard and feel the soft grass and pretend they were still children playing on the little park there was in front of 'Hiro's house.

Their little world was still there, pulsing and alive between their linked hands. It didn't really matter where they went, because they had made  _ promises _ to each other, both spoken and unspoken, and they would never give that up just to hear some uptight little shrink telling them they were okay now, sane enough to leave and enjoy actual human interactions again. 

Sanity was loneliness. Sanity was not being able to spend the entire day together, sanity was going back home and giving in to their parents' wishes and marrying girls and becoming nothing more than good friends who joked and talked about their children and met at the bar twice a month. 

Sanity was throwing everything that mattered away.

Issei cried every time he thought about not having 'Hiro by his side every single second of every single day. 'Hiro cried too, silently, the two of them grasping at each other's bodies, the mere idea of being separated  _ hurting _ more than anything else in the world could.

The nice thing about being a nihilist was that you got to  _ pick _ your reason for living.

Everyone else, the shrinks and the nurses and the therapists and their awful parents, all of them wanted for them to give up their reason for living. 

The scars on Issei's wrists from when they'd tried to move 'Hiro to Kenma's ward should be enough proof of how the two of them viewed  _ that _ idea. 

Nobody had been there when Issei had run to 'Hiro's house in the middle of the night, nose bleeding and a terrible bruise on his left eye,  _ bruises everywhere _ as he limped and crashed on the bed, crying, begging for his boyfriend not to let his father get to him again, not to make him go back to that house because he would die, he  _ would die-  _

'Hiro had been the only one who had pulled a first-aid kit from under the bed, treated his wounds with the softest of fingers, kissed him sweetly and wiped his tears away. 

Nobody had been there when 'Hiro had called Issei on the phone, weeping his heart out because his mother had thrashed the entire house looking for the alcohol he had spilled in the kitchen sink. Nobody had been there when Issei had taken 'Hiro away from his house through the goddamn window because his mother had been in one of her angriest moods and there was no way of knowing what she would do if she found out her son had broken the bottle of vodka she'd managed to get her hands on.

Nobody had been there because no one cared about the mismatched, broken children of fucked up parents. They were pieces who only fitted with each other, whose edges were too sharp and messy to fit properly with anyone else. 

So what. They were together, and they would be for the rest of their lives, and the rest of the world could  _ fucking explode _ for all they cared. 

"Do you think Daichi and Suga will really develop codependency too?" Issei asked, one morning. 

Mornings were their  _ thing _ . Extremely early mornings, just a bit after 5 am, when the sun was barely out and being awake seemed like a crime. Even before the loony bin, it was the time where they could meet up and hold hands in the little park near their houses and see the sunrise and pretend their town was a bit more beautiful than it actually was, pretend their lives were a bit easier than they actually were, pretend they could kiss and date and get engaged and married and it wouldn't make a difference in the greater scheme of things. 

"Hmm, I don't know. Daichi, probably, but I'm not sure how Suga feels about this entire thing." 'Hiro answered as he fiddled with the coffee machine and gestured for Issei to grab the plastic cups.

Every day, they woke up together before anyone else. If it was a Thursday, they sweetly nudged Oikawa back to his own room so he wouldn't get in trouble for sneaking out after the headcount - sometimes they couldn't find in themselves the guts to wake him up so Issei just scooped him up in his arms and took him to the bunk he shared with Kuroo. Every day, they went to the common room in their pajamas, made enough coffee for everyone, 'Hiro sat in his boyfriend's lap and they talked in very low tones, sharing warmth, creating a soft aura against the cold air of the hospital. 

It was routine. Sweet, idyllic, a bit fucked up in the head,  _ theirs _ . 

Issei handed him the plastic cups and let himself fall in one of the comfortable chairs. "I don't know, Suga seems pretty obsessed with him sometimes. Like, obsessed in that sociopathic kind of way."

They had been thinking and talking about what Doctor Shimizu had said in the previous group session for a while now. They had developed a slight obsession with their own problem after they got diagnosed, and it was very strange watching a couple so different from them develop the same issue.

A strong smell of coffee filled up the room. 'Hiro finished up dealing with the machine and poured two cups for them before sitting in the other's lap and giving him his cup. His boyfriend's weight was so familiar to Issei now, the weight of his sleepy body curled up in his lap, the weight of his head against his shoulder. "In that sociopathic kind of way that means he's in love."

"He looks at Daichi the same way he looks at Asahi, but more… predatory."

"He knows better than to mess with Asahi. Also, Daichi's more vulnerable."

"Not just that. He knows how to keep them both close. He would probably break Asahi if he treated him the same way he treats Daichi.”

“Hm.” ‘Hiro took a sip of his steaming coffee, his thumb caressing the back of Issei’s hand on his thigh. “People just don’t know how to fall in love here.”

Issei scoffed. “Neither do we, apparently, or we wouldn’t  _ be  _ here.”

“Ah, you’re right.” ‘Hiro laughed lightly. 

_ But I wouldn’t trade our fucked up love for the world.  _

_ Neither would I.  _

They kissed briefly and pulled back as footsteps came closer to the common room. Intimacy was something to be treasured. 

-

“I have a strange question.”

“Shoot.”

“You guys have a lot of sex in here, don’t you?”

Oikawa hid a giggle behind his hand. “Pervy Iwa-chan!”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Was that your question?”

“No, what I want to know is, how do you even find lube? Is there something like this around here?”

Oikawa traced his own bottom lip with his thumb, winking at Iwaizumi. “My  _ pretty mouth  _ is good for things other than talking, Iwa-chan. All I do is find the right guard or nurse and, well,  _ convince  _ them. I’ve gotten plenty of things that way. You know that knife Koushi carries around in his sleeve? I gave him that for Christmas last year.”

_ How good of a fuck someone has to be to convince a guard in a  _ mental institution _ to give them a  _ knife _?  _

“You’re probably wondering how I did it.”

“Actually, I am.”

“A whole week fucking one of the guards after his shift. Since I don’t really have a self-harming history, and I’m not violent like Tetsu or unstable like Koushi, he figured it was no big deal.” Oikawa tilted his head, seemingly confused. “I’d thought you’d be jealous. You seem like a jealous type.”

They were both sitting on the floor, so Iwaizumi just pulled Oikawa to him and felt the other boy relax almost immediately against his hold. 

He'd thought he would be jealous too. But the fact that they hadn’t had sex at all, had done nothing other than kiss and cuddle and hold each other, made this all seem more intimate. Oikawa was less confident when it came to real  _ affection _ , he was less arrogant and all-knowing, and let his guard down a lot more. Hajime was more satisfied with spending his afternoons watching Oikawa nap while clinging to him than he’d be if they ever fucked. If the other ever wanted to, he wouldn’t refuse, but Tooru seemed happy enough to keep having sex with the other patients and go back to Hajime afterwards, grasping at him and pressing light kisses on his skin and chatting in low tones until they fell asleep. 

So, Iwaizumi just pulled him closer and kissed the top of his head. “Nah, I’m good.”

Oikawa hummed happily and closed his eyes, basking in the soft attention. “Listen, Iwa-chan. When we get out of here, I’ll ask you out. On a proper date. I’ll take you out for dinner and a movie and everything.”

“I’ll say yes.”

“Good. Then you’ll get to see me with some actual  _ nice  _ clothes and with my hair actually looking good.”

“Better than it already looks?”

“It looks awful! I have so many hair products back at home, trust me, this is  _ horrible  _ compared to how it looks when I can groom it.”

“Now I really can’t wait.”

-

Kenma didn’t play games with just anyone. There was Kuro, of course, then Asahi because his presence was calming and he enjoyed playing a lot. There was Hinata from Kenma’s ward, and his grumpy boyfriend if they were feeling a bit more social than usual. Oikawa, when he needed to blow off steam in different ways. And Suga.

Suga was a good playing buddy. Focused, light-hearted, able to make Kenma laugh. They weren’t afraid of him like everyone else was; after years of dealing with Kuro and his IED, they’d gotten somewhat skilled with interacting with emotionally unstable people. 

And Suga really just wanted to play games most of the time.

“Hey, Kenma.”

“Hm?”

“Remember that time you got your hands in Kuroo’s patient file?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you do that?”

“Not that hard. Just gotta know where to look.”

“Can you show me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i guess speeding up updates it is, then. 
> 
> i only just realized...the writing potential of matsuhana in this...i should write them a separate piece....
> 
> to the reader who asked where they get lube: your question was noted and answered!
> 
> this little fic got so much more attention than i expected, i'm so so happy, you all mean the World.


	8. medicine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Why do I owe you a favor for this one?" Suga asked suddenly. "It's no different from the other ones." 
> 
> Oikawa didn't turn to face him. "You know why."
> 
> Because Hajime made him forget, and Suga made him remember and his addiction pulsed like a throbbing, unending headache.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "even in the state of you and i,   
> how can i refuse?   
> ever since you came into my life.  
> because you're my medicine.  
> said i, i adore you  
> and that's all i have to say,   
> you opiate this hazy head of mine."
> 
> (medicine - the 1975)

Iwaizumi was now understanding just how essential the  _ whoever wakes up first makes enough coffee for everyone  _ rule was, because his new meds got him grumpier and more tired than usual when he woke up, and when he arrived at the common room that morning and saw Makki fiddling with a steaming coffee pot, he almost cried out of sheer happiness and relief. 

"Here." Mattsun handed him a cup, a smirk all-knowing in his face. "You look like death."

"Good morning to you two." Hajime mumbled and threw himself on the couch next to the other patient. Oikawa was still sleeping on his bed, and Iwaizumi wasn't about to wake him up when he'd finally managed to get more than five hours of rest, but a very selfish and not that small part of him kept thinking about how beautiful Oikawa's hair looked when the sunlight caught at it. 

"Oh, we were meaning to ask! How is it like? With him?" Makki asked and smirked just like his boyfriend at Hajime's startled face before dismissively waving his hand that wasn't holding a cup of coffee. "You had a stupid, far-off look on your face." 

Iwaizumi just hummed, a bit embarrassed, and took a sip of his coffee. "What? Sex? We don't do it. If anything, you two should tell me how it's like." 

A shrug. "He’s different for everyone. I mean, I don’t know if you ever heard him say it-"

"-But one of the main reasons Tooru is such a good fuck is because he is  _ tuned _ to his partner for as long as they’re having sex." 

Makki sat down in his familiar spot at Mattsun's lap. "It’s almost weird, to be honest. A bit scary. It’s like he immediately knows you and all of the things that make you tick. As if he can  _ feel  _ sexual desire and pull it out and play with it."

"He made me realize I was into stuff not even I knew I was." 

"With Kuroo, they like… fight for dominance or something. It gets really intense, almost violent sometimes, because they're both too stubborn to submit."

"With Suga, don't even ask. We have no idea how  _ that _ works."

"All we know is that Oikawa tops and he comes out looking far more mentally wrecked than Suga, but the little sadist does spend a few days limping a bit afterwards." Mattsun gave a slow, satisfied smile at the memory of Suga limping on the morning after. 

"With us… Well, it takes a while, but he kinda...bends?"

Iwaizumi frowned. "How so?"

"Ah, there's a reason we told you he's a pretty crier."

Hajime's mind took him back to his first morning in the hospital.

_ Beautiful, isn't he? Such a pretty crier, too. _

Makki put his hands up in a defensive movement. "Don't look at us like that, it's all consensual!"

Mattsun's fingers twitched against Makki's waist. "Christ, aren't you scary. Anyway. You probably noticed how much of a little king he is."

_ Of course I fucking noticed, all he needs is a crown and a throne. _

"His Majesty likes to have his arrogance fucked out of him now and then, though."

A sigh. "Power dynamics get fuzzy. That's why we don't do it that often, just once a week." 

"And also because, since we're not goddamn sociopaths, we take our time with aftercare. We all go pretty deep sometimes, Oikawa most of all, so."

Iwaizumi recalled that moment a few days ago, Oikawa straddling his lap, crying and shaking while pressing kiss after kiss against his lips. He could imagine the other  _ going pretty deep  _ in a power play session. "Why with you two?"

Makki shrugged. "We don't really know. He was the one who welcomed us when we got admitted."

"And we're the less… rebellious? Like, he rarely orders people around, but, when he does, we tend to just do as he says without questioning much. So, he doesn't feel the need to spend so much energy on self-affirmation when it comes to us."

"He trusts us and we trust him. That's all there is to it, I think."

"Trust and sex."

Mattsun eyed Iwaizumi with what seemed a very tiny streak of envy. "He trusts  _ you _ so much more, though."

"He let you in so easily, it's almost frustrating."

Hajime fiddled with the tape around his fingers. "We don't even fuck."

"Proves our point."

"Look, Oikawa has sex frequently. He doesn't play coy or dances around it. The three of us fucked on our first night here. But it was  _ weeks _ until he let himself actually  _ fall asleep _ in our bed." 

"He used to just get up, get dressed and leave."

The two of them remembered exactly the night where Oikawa had stopped leaving immediately after sex. Power play had been even more intense than usual, and Oikawa's throat was raw and dry from begging so much, his face wet with still-half-there tears. Still, he had gotten up, like every other night before, shoving Makki's hand away when it reached out for him as he stood up in weak knees to leave for his bedroom one more time. Mattsun had sighed as he watched Oikawa's trembling, sweaty frame make its way to the door. Neither one of the two could move fast enough, though, when the brunette had let out a broken, little moan and fallen down to his knees, sobbing loudly, fresh tears streaming down the path left behind by the previous ones. 

Mattsun had run to him and scooped him up in his arms, Oikawa's hands grappling at his shoulders and neck, seemingly unable to speak properly, nothing other than pleads and random words of fearful submission. He had been laid down on the bed again, and the power couple had spent the rest of the night softly bringing him out of his headspace, showering him with light touches and reassurance until it was morning and his eyes had lost that glassy, unfocused, lost look. 

After that, Oikawa had always let himself relax a little bit more in the arms of his lovers in the ward. And yet, he had only needed a caring rejection from Hajime to cling to him as if he were the medicine to chase all his bad thoughts away.

"Iwaizumi, listen. Pay  _ attention. _ He  _ talks _ to you. You make him laugh. You two nap and cuddle and spend actual time together." 

Makki glanced at the wall clock and got up, dragging Mattsun with him by their linked hands. "Up, it's almost time for our individual session." he said to his boyfriend softly. Even their voices sounded different when they talked to each other, as if one was listening to them while they were underwater: submerged, floating, out of reach to those in the shore. He turned to Hajime again. "Now, we don't know everything about Tooru. But it's a matter of rational thinking. If a sex addict is satisfied enough with your company to not even ask for sex… It kinda means something." 

They left with similar hand waves. Iwaizumi sipped at his coffee, enjoying the silence and staring out of the window before realizing he was smiling. Despite himself. Despite everything.

-

Kenma sighed deeply and paused the game, already feeling tired - they would have to explain everything to Suga, and giving long explanations always tired them out. 

_ Can you show me? _

"...Not really...I can tell you, though." they mumbled, eyeing the frozen frame in the small television with longing. They didn't miss their days out of the hospital much, but one thing they did miss were good TVs and being able to pick their own games. And sleepovers with Kuro. That was about it, though.

Suga nodded, apparently satisfied. His eyes were soft today, his expression lighter than usual, and Kenma felt suspicion arise. Suga was calculating, rational, analytical. If he was relaxed enough to let it show on his face, it meant he was probably far too deep inside his own thoughts. And none of the patients were able to remain completely stable if they dove into their own thoughts. That was why Kenma played games, Oikawa and Kuro read books, Asahi took care of everyone else and Suga played chess and broke everyone's hearts. It was routine, ignoring one's mind. They all functioned on routine alone. 

Kenma sighed. It wasn't their business either way. "...Whose files?"

Suga smiled sweetly. "All of them." Kenma fought the urge to sigh again. 

"Whose office?"

"Shimizu's."

Kenma shifted on the couch to both make themselves more comfortable and to get closer to Suga so the other two patients in the common room wouldn't be able to hear their conversation. "You just need the key to the office."

"Oh, is that it?"

"Besides getting past the guards-" Suga scoffed at that, which Kenma deemed fair. "-yeah, that's it… The shrinks don't take the files home, they just put them in the drawers, and those don't have locks, so..."

"How can I get the key?"

Kenma paused for a bit as they tried to figure out a way of explaining it. They'd gotten his hands on Kuro's files out of pure curiosity and sheer luck, with very little strategy. "You know, that little room where they give us meds…?" they waited until Suga nodded. "There's where they save the keys too, but you gotta get past the guard that has the night shift..."

Suga rested his head on his hand, his frame a Renaissance painting against the old couch. "How did you do it?"

Kenma hugged their knees in search of some comfort. "I basically sneaked in… But the guard back then was lazy and fell asleep easily… I think they fired him…I don't know how you’ll manage."

"Don't worry, I have my ways. And then?"

"The best would be to grab the files as soon as you have the keys, so they won't be missed, but I dunno… It  _ is _ Sunday, though, the shrinks usually take longer to arrive on Monday morning, you should have more time..."

The silver-haired boy stared at the wall for a few seconds as Kenma's explanation sunk in before smiling brightly and reaching for his remote again. "Thanks, Kenma. Do you still want to play?"

Kenma straightened their back before shrugging and grabbing their own remote. "Sure."

-

Oikawa threw the key to him in the middle of the night, chin up as if he was a king mercifully granting a coin to an impoverished subject.

"Thanks."

Oikawa pouted slightly. "I'm  _ not _ saying 'no problem'. You owe me a favor for this one."

"I know." Suga knelt down and carefully put the keys inside his sock. Still kneeling, he allowed himself a quick glance up at Oikawa and  _ yep, there it is, this is why you are the king of this strange chess board, Tooru, all you need is a crown. _ "How was it?"

"Too easy. I almost feel sorry sometimes for people who fall asleep right after coming." Oikawa planted his hands on his (beautiful,  _ beautiful _ ) waist, holding his head up so naturally - he always got so arrogant when he successfully manipulated people through sex, his controlling aura became even stronger. "What about Doctor Shimizu, though? Won't she notice it's missing?"

"All the shrinks have copies of their keys, and I've never seen her use the hospital's key." said Suga as he got himself up again, the metal of the keys hidden in his sock shifting against his skin.

Tooru frowned. "...For how long have you been planning this?"

"A little while."

"You're kind of a sick bastard, Koushi." 

"You're kind of a whore, Tooru." 

It would sound like a joke if they didn't feel like both statements were true, down to their very bones. As it was, they smirked at each other and Oikawa turned to take his leave. 

"Why do I owe you a favor for this one?" Suga asked suddenly. "It's no different from the other ones." 

Oikawa didn't turn to face him. "You know why."

Because he had been in bed with Iwaizumi, the new boy deeply asleep and Oikawa caressing his hair with such an open expression of loving  _ need _ it slashed through the thick atmosphere of the hospital at night. Because Suga had knocked on the door and called for him and asked him to use his skills, and Oikawa had had to get up slowly so not to wake up Iwaizumi, and feel the cold floor beneath his feet as he walked towards the small booth and got himself ready to blow a random stranger. 

Because Hajime made him forget, and Suga made him remember and his addiction pulsed like a throbbing, unending headache.  

"How  _ is _ he? The rook to our beautiful king?"

"Don't say it like that."

"Why not?"

"Because it sounds like you're going to take him away from me, and, if you do that, I'll literally become a murderer."

Suga found that easy enough to believe.  _ Fascinating. _ "Don't worry, I'm not touching him."

"Why are you so agreeable today?"

"Because I don't like it when people suffer for no reason. You both know your places here, and you both established your routine. I don't have any reason to hurt your relationship, not any more than I have to meddle with the power couple." … "And also because it  _ hurts  _ having someone you love taken away from you. And no one deserves that." 

“Other things hurt too, and that’s never stopped you from doing them.”

“Nothing hurts more than seeing someone you love being ripped away from you. Trust me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> speeeeding up updates bc i'm really feeling this fic now, almost as much as i did when i started it!
> 
> summer classes have been tough, and i'm running in three hours of sleep and stubbornness right now, but i'll make sure to get some more sleep tonight so that i can study and work properly on the few chapters we have left.
> 
> also, before anyone finds it weird that oikawa has been the center of most of the conversations and thoughts, lemme just quote a previous chapter. "Powerful, magnetic, has to be the center, otherwise nothing will work." so, yeah, i kinda know what i'm doing in this - i want to make it clear that things kinda spin around him in this place. just in case it seems strange and kinda obsessive - it's supposed to. 
> 
> (this chapter's song is Great give it a try)
> 
> (i know the timeline is funky but this Is a mental hospital after all, so don't expect much coherency i guess)
> 
> thanks once more for the nice comments, there were so many in the previous chapter and they made me so so happy like fidgety-happy bouncing-on-my-toes happy!! y'all are the best wow


	9. from east to west

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Listen, you've self-harmed before, right?" Oikawa grabbed Hajime's hands, turning them over and pressing slightly into the scars in his wrists with his fingertips, just on the border of uncomfortable, just to make Hajime pay attention. "You know that weird feeling of relief when you press the blade down in your skin?"
> 
> The other nodded, wordless.
> 
> "Would you rather be the blade or the tape that helps the cut stop bleeding?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "it started with a low light,  
> next thing I knew they ripped me from my bed,  
> and then they took my blood type;  
> it left a strange impression in my head.
> 
> they say the Nile used to run, from east to west.
> 
> and you know I'm fine,  
> but I hear those voices at night  
> sometimes.
> 
> the star maker says, it ain't so bad.  
> the dream maker's going make you mad.  
> the spaceman says, everybody look down,  
> it's all in your mind."
> 
> (spaceman - the killers)

"Where were you?"

Oikawa bit on his lower lip, unable to keep his head up when he saw Hajime's worried eyes piercing through his soul. "Went out to get some air." he breathed out the lie. With how heavy the air in the hospital was, especially in the bedroom hallway, where all nightmares and traumas lived, it was pretty hard to believe. If anything, it was easier for Oikawa to get some air when he was in the bedroom with the other patient. 

Iwaizumi scoffed. "Bullshit. You smell like jizz and cheap cologne."

Oikawa sighed. "Fine. Koushi needed a favor, that's all."

"What did he want with you?" 

Iwaizumi's heart kind of broke when Oikawa looked away from him, the usual light in eyes now faded and fractured. He wanted to reach out for him, to cradle his face in his hands and make him smile in that bright way he did when he was simply in a good mood, to see him hide a giggle against his palm, to hear him saying  _ Iwa-chan~ _ ! with that sing-song voice, to watch him being playful and annoying and stupidly clingy, to feel his existence as something alive and pulsing. 

Right now, though, Tooru looked like an empty thing, an ancient Greek statue in display at a museum: beautiful, hollow, dead. 

"Why do you do this to yourself?" Iwaizumi mumbled, more to himself than to Oikawa, but the boy heard him anyway, his face contorting into a frustrated expression. 

Oikawa didn't need this. He felt dirty and disgusting, he wanted a shower, he wanted a kiss, he wanted to pour an entire bottle of bleach down his throat to get the taste of the guard off of his tongue (because  _ of course _ he'd swallowed it, he was such a pretty little slut after all), all he needed was someone to hold him and tell him he was something more than just a warm mouth, because he was having a hard time believing it right now, so the words came out with more bite than he intended to, "Why do you spend your entire day scribbling on those journals? Same thing. Because my head is fucked up and I can't control what it makes me do."

Iwaizumi flinched like he'd been punched. Oikawa mumbled a  _ sorry _ , eyes fixated on the floor. "I'm just - I worry about you."

The words reminded Oikawa of what his parents used to say, when they saw him sleep-deprived and depressed, before they'd found out he had been raped. After that, there had been less worry and more disgust. "You're always so fucking worried. I like it when you care about me, Iwa-chan, God knows not many people do, but I'm not a  _ child _ ." 

Children were far from being so fucked-up, anyway. 

Hajime shook his head, seemingly at a loss for words to explain what he was actually feeling. "I never said that."

Oikawa took a deep breath, looked straight into Iwaizumi's eyes, and felt himself grounded back to reality. He walked over to the bed with slow steps and sat down on it before grasping at Hajime tightly and pressing his face against his shoulder. The other's arms were immediately around him, his hands idly caressing his back. 

"Why can't it be me the one you turn to when you need it?" Iwaizumi whispered, sounding hurt. 

Oikawa gripped him even tighter. "Don't. I'm not letting you be another tool for me to keep myself satisfied when I'm horny. You deserve more than that. You mean more to me than that."

"I wouldn't mind."

Oikawa groaned in frustration. "But  _ I _ would. I like  _ this _ , with  _ you _ . Listen, you've self-harmed before, right?" he pulled away and grabbed Hajime's hands, turning them over and pressing slightly into the scars in his wrists with his fingertips, just on the border of uncomfortable, just to make Hajime  _ pay attention _ . "You know that weird feeling of relief when you press the blade down in your skin?"

The other nodded, wordless.

"Would you rather be the blade or the tape that helps the cut stop bleeding?"

Hajime didn’t answer.

"I thought so. Now, come here and cuddle me, it's late and I want to sleep." 

-

Before being the queen of the loony bin's chess board, Koushi had been the king of another, completely different game. But that had been a long time ago, back when his eyes were still truly warm, when he had friends and a library and sunlight streaming through the large windows and a pool for the summer afternoons. Back when he was such a beautiful child, everyone had taken to call him  _ little prince _ , when he was smaller, and  _ little king _ when he got older and strong enough to beat his big brother when they raced to the pool. 

He was just so  _ pretty _ , with his soft silver hair and warm brown eyes and small fingers reaching for the thickest books in the wooden shelves and for the sweetest pieces of chocolate his father kept in his office.

His mother was the one who loved him the most. Or so she told him.  

His mother, with her wandering hands and manicured nails putting him to bed. His mother, with her sweet voice, filling up the bath tub with hot water for him. His mother, helping him get dressed, his mother opening the door in the dead of night, his mother…

She always said she loved him so badly.

Koushi learned how to be desirable before he learned how to ride a bicycle. 

His father always said he was proud. He was proud of his handsome son with his perfect grades and increasingly stronger body, he was proud of how smart Koushi turned out to be, he was proud of how he could charm everyone who ever met him. 

When they were alone in his office, just the two of them reading, sitting on chairs facing each other, his father always said Koushi had been the only good thing to come out of his marriage of thirty years, an angel among the cold stones of hell. He said that, maybe, he'd been sent to save something that had been broken so many years ago. 

Koushi was twelve, and there had been nothing to be saved anymore. 

He was twelve, his mom still came into his room late at night and his father still beat her up, but they both told him they loved him as soon as he woke up and until he went to bed. His mother walked around in her perfect makeup to cover up her bruises and in high heels despite her wounds, and his father went to work in suits and smiled at his co-workers and tried not to make it too obvious that he was limping, and they both kissed his cheek when he left for school. They both made his lunch, even if they were wealthy enough not to need to do so, and Koushi did well in classes. They were a normal day-to-day family, except they weren't. His brother bolted out of home as soon as he got in college. Koushi always thought about calling him and asking him how was the world out of their family house, with its pool and its swings. 

Then he was thirteen, fourteen. If they loved him so much, if they had married each other, if they were still married despite all the yelling and the thrown things and the bruises, what exactly was love? 

Then he was fifteen and that question was answered for him. 

-

"Hey, Iwa-chan." 

"Hm?"

"What  _ do _ you write in those journals?" 

Iwaizumi took a deep breath. "Bad stuff. OCD stuff." he didn't really want to talk about it. His new assigned psychiatrist in the hospital had been probing at him for days, for him to let them see the journals. Iwaizumi just wished he was able to burn them all in the courtyard.

Oikawa slapped him lightly on the forehead. "I know, silly." he whispered fondly - he always got clingier after having sex with someone other than his usual partners. Kuroo wasn't around, had taken to spend some nights with Kenma at their common room, enjoying their company before they were released from their stay at the mental hospital; but still Oikawa and Iwaizumi whispered to each other, as if the space between them was made of glass and could break so quickly and leave them both alone again. "But what exactly  _ is _ all that stuff?"

This was Oikawa, though. Oikawa, who had come to bed with him after fucking someone random, who had let him wipe his angry tears, who had ranted in long blocks of whispered, stuttered words about how much he hated himself, about how being touched like that made him feel disgusting and worthless, about how he couldn’t help himself even then, because if he stopped himself from doing it, he’d feel even worse. Oikawa who got what it felt like to have your mind surround you with awful, awful, ugly thoughts that you simply  _ couldn’t _ chase away or confront, so you’re stuck in the middle hoping they don’t destroy you.

Hajime took another deep breath. The air in the tiny room seemed to be far from enough for both of them.He got up from the bed and silently beckoned for Oikawa to follow him to his own bedroom. 

Being the newest patient, he still didn't have a bunkmate - his room was mostly empty and tidy (organization was far from being his compulsion, but it did help calm him down), most of the few things he'd brought from home still in his case. The journals were piled up in the nightstand, looming like a threatening little black and white building. 

Iwaizumi gestured to the journals, a lump in his throat because obsessive thoughts were _horrifying_ and Oikawa… Oikawa was beautiful and caring and precious and just, "There. You can read them if you want. Just..."

Tooru turned to him with a soft smile. “You don’t  _ have _ to show them, you know. I was just curious. It’s okay if you’re not comfortable yet.”

Iwaizumi shook his head and sat on the bed, followed suit by the other. “It’s okay. Maybe it’ll help me somehow. I haven’t shown them to anyone. Just know that those are, like, intrusive thoughts. I don’t really want to have them or anything, so-”

“I know, don’t worry.” Oikawa reached for the journal on top of the pile. There was something to be said about the color contrast between his pale fingers and the stark black of the leather cover, but Iwaizumi was too busy trying to look at his brown eyes to focus on anything else. “I’m more or less aware of how OCD works. Obsessive thoughts, compulsive actions, right? I know it’s not the exact same thing, but it’s like my sexual thoughts. Most of them… don’t really come from me? Like, some of them are okay, but, for the most part, they’re awful and violent and sometimes abusive and it’s just, I hate them so much.” he gave a self-conscious little laugh, but his aversion to his own mind was clear in his eyes. “But, yeah, I have some idea of how it’s like, having thoughts that don’t come from you. So, don’t worry. I’m not here to judge you.”

His face was serene as he read through pages and pages of Hajime’s obsessive writing, as he squinted to understand some of the most unreadable parts. He traced some of the doodles with the tip of his finger, as if he were able to feel the slashes of the pencil, the pressure of Hajime’s hands against the paper. 

His eyes widened, just a bit, when he saw the names of the other patients. Hajime had been having far too many thoughts about them, the extended and forced interaction causing vivid, bloody images, even more than usual. The one with Makki and Mattsun had given him a silent panic attack in the middle of the night. The one with Suga was literal horror movie stuff, with too much blood and knives and messages carved in bodies, and would probably haunt him forever. He’d only had one with Daichi and Asahi and hoped he’d never have it ever again.

Iwaizumi was so terribly aware of everything that he heard the soft intake of breath when Oikawa opened his mouth to speak. “Everyone's here.” pause. “I'm not here.”

Iwaizumi closed his eyes firmly shut. “Don't trigger me.”

“Wh-“

“It's been taking me all I have not to think about you in…  _ that _ way. So, don’t mention it.”

Oikawa shrugged, his thumb idly caressing one of the pages. Iwaizumi almost felt the caress in his own skin. “Oh, I wouldn’t mind.”

Hajime frowned deeply, taken aback by the words. “What the hell, Oikawa?”

The brunette gave a little smile, still caressing the journal as if it was a living thing that needed to be soothed, as if a piece of Hajime's mind was resting there. “I also think about you. In a lot of ways I shouldn’t. And a lot of ways I can’t control. It makes me feel guilty. So I wouldn’t mind if you thought about me in bad ways too. It’d balance things out.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It doesn’t. But neither does this,” he points at the journals, “or this.” he points at his own head. “And, well, at least I’d be on your mind?”

“You’re always in my head, you crazy fuck.”

“Yeah, but I wanna be in all the parts. Bad and good parts.”

“Do you have any idea how unhealthy that sounds?" 

“Oh, please, Iwa-chan. If there was anything healthy about you and me, we wouldn’t even be here.” 

-

Suga knocked on their door a while later, his eyes  _ open _ and bright and manic. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. “Hey, do you two wanna see your files?”

Oikawa turned to him, confused. “Which files? The patient files?”

“Yes.”

“You have them?”

“That’s what I wanted the keys for. C’mon, I have to put them back before morning!”

Oikawa moved to get up from the bed, but Iwaizumi grabbed his wrist instinctively. He was learning to trust less and less that sweet smile and those brown eyes and those silver locks of hair that looked like moon tears. “What about the night shift guard?”

Suga smiled even wider, looking pleased and completely sociopathic. “Out like a light. Oikawa’s mouth is truly a miracle maker.”

Oikawa chuckled, an empty, mechanical sound that made Hajime grip at him tighter and pull him closer to himself as they followed Suga to the other end of the hallway. When they arrived, the power couple, Asahi and Daichi were already there. Asahi was the only one who looked vaguely sleepy; everyone else was wide awake, in that hazy-eyed, disturbing way in which insomniacs stay up. A considerable pile of archives and files rested in the middle of their mismatched circle.

“Here, everyone can read their own, and then we can trade later…” Suga reached for his own and leafed through it, the thickest among all of them. He smirked, a hollow little thing. “Oh, would you look at that, she wrote an entire essay about my traumas. I almost feel sorry for her, having to write down everything about my daddy issues.”

It was strange, reading about his life, written down in such a stark, medical way, in neat little notes.  _ Sexually abused by mother from 5 to 15 years old. Witness of daily domestic violence since birth. Sociopathic traces heavily observed since 12 years old. Witness of mother’s murder by father’s doing at 15. Genetic predisposition. Triggers: parents’ names, mentions of sexual abuse towards children, policemen, being called by his childhood nickname, sexual situations not initiated by himself.  _

_ Has projected his previous status of “center of attention” in fellow patient Oikawa Tooru, and has taken a heavily dominant position for himself, as if trying to erase his memories of being the “loved one” but still the receptor of abuse. _

_ His recent strong infatuation for fellow patient Sawamura Daichi has been dealt with in a very unhealthy way. Projects his unconscious idea of love = pain on him. Claims to be indifferent, but shows an obsessive and controlling behavior stronger than with other patients and even sex partners.  _

"Fuck you, Shimizu." Suga whispered, but couldn't find any bite in his own words. He had stolen the files both as a whim of the moment and as a way of getting info about the others, info he would never get in any other circumstances, and yet… 

So this was what the shrinks did. Picked their thoughts apart and displayed them all in neat notes and pages of writing, as if they were defective electronic devices that needed to be completely torn apart before being rebuilt. As if his traumas and thoughts and obsessions were tiny broken gears. 

“She has my entire list of triggers written down, oh, my God.” Oikawa mumbled, his eyes darting quickly as he read a page. “Am I this fucked up?”

Makki snickered from where he leaned back against Mattsun, holding their files so they could both read them. “Trust me, beautiful, if these notes are anything to go by, you’re not half as fucked up as us. I hadn’t even noticed we did this stuff.”

Daichi's laugh was raw and hoarse and entirely fake. His fingers trembled a bit where they grasped the pages. "I sound so goddamn depressive, honestly, I feel sorry for myself." 

"Dai, you  _ are _ depressed." Asahi said, not unkindly, but Daichi just shook his head.

"No, just...It's worse. Those notes, they don't even sound like it's me, but-"

_ But they are. _

Hajime had been rereading the words  _ homicidal ideation  _ over and over for the last couple of minutes. 

Oikawa moved to Iwaizumi's side and asked in a low voice, "What's wrong?"

Iwaizumi weakly gestured to the set of words. 

"Oh." Oikawa breathed. "Yeah, I'd figured. Some of those things you've written…"

"But I don't- I'd never-"

"I know. And she knows, too. That's why it's called 'ideation'." he pressed a kiss to Hajime's cheek. "You're okay, you're not a bad person." 

Iwaizumi found that incredibly hard to believe. 

The night seemed endless, stretching thick and black all over the hallway. It felt like morning was never going to come, and they would all just stay there, on the floor, forever, looking through the notes that dissected their innermost fears, in a small circle, sharing the same oxygen, children who grew up far too fast, in the wrongest ways possible. 

"Hey, let's play a game of who has the biggest number of comorbid conditions." Mattsun joked idly, but his voice sounded a bit broken, a bit lost.

"Don't even try, I literally have, like, half a page of those." Suga said, pressing closer to Daichi, hand grasping tightly at Asahi's, whose only point of contact with reality was now being that spot where his fingers entwined with Koushi's. 

Makki frowned as he analyzed the cover of his files. "Uh, guys?"

"Yeah?"

"So, um, a year ago or so, I saw Doctor Shimizu writing little notes in the covers of some files? And I asked about them and she said it was so she'd know which patients she had any hopes of releasing soon. And then Issei asked, what would  _ soon _ mean, and she said it was around a year, a year and a half?" Makki took a deep breath. "Basically, I don't see any of those notes in any of the files."

Everyone stared at each other. 

"Nothing in mine."

"Nothing here, too."

Headshake. 

"Nope."

Silence dragged its blunt nails through the atmosphere of the hallway.

"So, that means-"

 

Suga laughed maniacally, but was interrupted by a choked sob. "Well, I guess we'll just have to get used to being here every day for at least a couple more years." his tears were as silver and soft as his strands of hair. 

"Honestly?" Asahi thumbed at his file. "I wouldn't have any hopes for us either, if I were her."

Iwaizumi suddenly felt a delicate hand cupping his cheek, and then he was staring at Oikawa's big, brown, shiny eyes. He seemed to glow lightly in the darkness.

"It seems like that date of ours won't happen for a while?" he said, his chin trembling as he fought to keep smiling. "Sorry?" 

Iwaizumi took his hand and brought it to his lips, kissing its back sweetly. "It's okay. I don't mind waiting." 

Oikawa grabbed Iwaizumi's collar and kissed him firmly, desperately in the mouth. His lips tasted salty from the fresh teardrops. He felt like sadness, like want, like hope, like  _ love.  _ "Me neither."

_ I do mind waiting, but if it's with you, I don't mind that much. _   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end
> 
> like, literally.
> 
> this chapter was Hard to write. like Hard. the hardest. i stumbled and tripped around it for 5 days. i asked everyone for advice, from my internet friends to my partners to my cousin who's never watched a minute of anime in her life. i lost hours of sleep and ignored so many physics classes and study sessions to write this. and yet i've never been more insecure about a chapter before in my life. i have no idea if this is good, i'm actually a bit scared i completely fucked it up. but yeah. 
> 
> when this ending was planned i was like, in chapter 5. i just hope i didn't destroy everything with something shitty. 
> 
> but honestly? this story had to be over. it just felt right for it to end here. i'm gonna write more with this au, i'm gonna explore a lot more with the other couples, but i just didn't want to drag this specific story any longer than necessary. 
> 
> thanks everyone who supported this little work for so long. this was a way of diving straightforward into my own fears and issues and mental illnesses, and dealing with them in a completely unhealthy way. still, it became something bigger than i'd expected. a lot of people liked it. i know i probably disappointed a lot of times, but it was the best i could do. this work means very much to me, and i'm really happy it ended up meaning something for other people too. all the comments and kudos and bookmarks, everyone who dropped a few words for me to wake up to (since i always post in the dead of night lmao), you kept me going when i was dying from sleep deprivation and insecurity. i can't thank you enough.
> 
> i'm now off to work in a fic for oikawa's birthday - it's been so exciting to write (i Adore mafia au's and oikawa as a mob boss) so stay tuned for that!
> 
> (if anyone wants, i can give you the playlist i listened to obsessively while i was writing this)
> 
> thank you so much again! hope i didn't disappoint.

**Author's Note:**

> remember that nice, cute recovery iwaoi i wrote in january as a way of coping? that was healthy coping.  
> this right here, my friends, is unhealthy coping.  
> oh, and Suga is not a psychopath. not exactly.


End file.
